Maverick Jack: The Assassin
by djenie
Summary: You'll recognize the players, but many things are not quite as you may expect them to be. A veil has been drawn across things you think you know. A new reality awaits. Find your seat. The curtain is about to rise.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place in an Alternate Reality—one which I will call the Maverick Jack universe. There's no sexual content in this story, the T rating is for violence and language.**

**If the story finds an audience, it may be the first of several, since I have a number of ideas for these characters. **

**Maverick Jack: Assassin**

**March 8, 1993 – The capital city of a violence-ridden dictatorship.**

The shot was perfectly aligned, cross-hairs on the target's forehead as he walked slowly down the center of the city street. Unaware of his imminent danger, he waved to the crowds of people lining the sidewalk.

On a rooftop, a seemingly impossible distance away, the operative called 'Red Kite' steadied himself, exhaled and tightened his finger on the trigger...

At that moment the target turned aside, heading for the edge of the street. "Shit," the shooter breathed, letting his hand relax, as guards and spectators came between him and his objective.

A few seconds later his ear-bud came to life. "What's the problem, Red Kite?"

"Target has moved to the side of the street, out of line of sight."

"Can you re-acquire?"

"Attempting to do so." He adjusted the powerful telescopic sight very slightly to the left, seeking the spot where he hoped the target would reappear. The crowd of onlookers completely filled the sight. It was impossible to tell which one, if any, was the target. He held his position, waiting.

"Red Kite?"

"Not yet. He's hidden by the crowd... Wait, there he is." The target had reappeared, moving toward the middle of the street again. "Oh, crap."

"Do you have the shot, Red Kite?" his commanding officer demanded.

"He's got a kid in his arms."

The child was about four years old and his arms were around the target's neck, their heads close together, but Red Kite's line of fire was clear. Still, if he was off by an inch... And even if he missed the kid and took out the target, the man's blood would drench the boy... the trauma to the youngster would be horrible...

"_Do you have the shot?"_

"Yes, sir, but..."

"Take the shot."

"Sir..."

"Take the shot, Red Kite! That's an order!"

Twenty more steps and the target would be entering the government building. The opportunity would be gone, and who knew when there would be another. The dictator's security was incredibly tight. This public appearance was the first he had made in over a year. The short walk—of less than a city block—had been for the purpose of squashing rumors that the man was dead, or too ill to rule. Every day that he governed the country, dozens of citizens were arrested, tortured, killed. It could easily be another year before he would be exposed like this. Thousands more lives would be forfeit. Thousands against one small, dark-haired boy...

Seconds ticked by.

Ten more steps now.

"_Goddammit, Major! Take the shot!"_

"No, sir..."

"_What the fuck! I'll have your ass, O'Neill! Take the shot!"_

"No, sir!" His voice was sharper. His eye was still on the target.

An unintelligible string of curses poured into his ear-bud.

Just then the dictator halted. He stood for a moment in the center of the street, his face turned toward the boy in his arms. Then he patted the boy's back, bent down, and set the child on the ground. The kid turned and ran to the side, disappearing into the crowd.

The target straightened, and moved forward.

Three more steps.

Jack centered the cross-hairs between the eyes and pulled the trigger. A beat later, the back of the dictator's skull exploded in a shower of red mist. For an interminable instant the body remained upright, as if nothing had transpired. Then it crumpled to the ground.

All hell broke loose in the street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter! It seems to interest a few people, so here's chapter 2.**

**Also many thanks to my friend who gave me feedback on the rough draft of this story!**

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**March 12****th**** - The Pentagon, Arlington, VA **

Lieutenant General Jacob Carter, Assistant to the United States Air Force Chief of Staff, sat back in his chair and took a long and leisurely look at the man standing stiffly at attention in front of his desk. He took his time, counting to a slow twenty before he spoke.

"Major O'Neill, according to Lt. Colonel Cromwell's complaint, you refused to carry out a direct order. Not once, but twice." General Carter's tone was cold. "Is that correct?"

O'Neill kept his eyes straight ahead and refused to flinch before the General's baleful glare. "Yes, sir!"

"Explain!" Carter ordered.

"I was in position to assassinate the dictator, Sihar Tran, sir. He was making a brief personal appearance in the street outside the government office building in the capital city. I was just about to take the shot when Tran picked up a little boy from the spectators and carried him down the street for a ways. Colonel Cromwell ordered me to take the shot. I refused. He ordered me again, and I refused again. Sir!"

"Did you feel you might hit the child, Major?"

"No, sir. I was confident I could kill the target without hitting the kid."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because the boy was right there, and would have gone down with Tran, sir. He would have seen what happened to the man, and been covered with his blood and brains. No child should experience that. Sir!"

The General's expression did not change. He regarded O'Neill for a long moment. "Very well, Major. Wait in the outer office. Dismissed."

O'Neill executed a sharp salute, which Carter returned, then the major did a perfect about-face and left the office.

Carter steepled his fingers and regarded the two men seated nearby. Gentlemen?"

Lieutenant Colonel Frank Cromwell spoke up first, his voice angry and hard. "Sir. O'Neill has been in my squad for nine months, and he's been a troublemaker from the beginning. This is not the first time he's been insubordinate and refused to follow orders. I've had to reprimand him on numerous occasions. I have documentation of eight such incidents, along with statements from witnesses, sir. I've filed this documentation with the Disciplinary Board in support of my complaint against O'Neill for..."

"Yes, yes, Cromwell," Carter interrupted. "I've read your complaint."

"General." The third man spoke. George Hammond was a man in his late fifties, balding, also a General, though one grade below Carter. He was the assistant head of the Air Force Security Department, which handled covert operations for the USAF, and was based at the Pentagon.

"Yes, George?"

"May I remind you, sir, that a few moments later Tran set the boy on the ground, and Major O'Neill took the shot, successfully neutralizing the target, and completing the mission."

"That's irrelevant!" Cromwell insisted. "Sir! It's O'Neill's insubordinate behavior that we're discussing... "

"How long was the shot, Colonel?" Carter interrupted.

Cromwell's jaw clenched. Carter expected to hear teeth cracking. "Thirty-one hundred forty yards, sir." *******

"Do you have anyone else in your unit who could have made that shot?"

"No, sir!" Cromwell replied reluctantly. "But that is not the issue here..."

"I disagree, Colonel," Carter cut in. "And so does the Chief of Staff. Major O'Neill is an asset with almost unequalled ability in the field. We can't afford to lose a man like that. You're accusing him of multiple counts of insubordination, an accusation which could lead to court-martial, and a dishonorable discharge. That outcome is not acceptable to the Joint Chiefs."

"Sir, O'Neill is a disgrace to the Air Force. Unfit to serve with honorable men!" Cromwell protested. "He has no respect for authority. Sir!"

"His previous CO, Colonel Kawalsky, never filed any complaints about him," Hammond noted gently. "Perhaps he simply has no respect for you."

Cromwell reddened, but he held his tongue.

"At any rate," General Carter went on, "the question has already been decided. O'Neill's value as a covert operative outweighs any lack of respect he may have shown towards his superior officers up to this point. We need him. Colonel Cromwell, you filed a Class 1 complaint against him with the Disciplinary Board. You will withdraw that complaint, and re-file, revising it down to a class 3, and you will recommend that O'Neill be reduced in rank to captain. Is that understood?"

Cromwell first paled then reddened again with anger as the General was speaking. His face clearly showed the effort it took to keep himself under control. "Understood, sir," he managed in a strangled voice.

"Good. Once the complaint is resubmitted, the board will act immediately upon your recommendation. O'Neill will receive an administrative demotion to captain and be transferred out of your command. I'm ordering you to attend to the complaint at once."

"Yes, sir!"

"You're dismissed, Colonel."

Cromwell came to his feet, saluted stiffly, and left the office.

"I don't believe you've made Cromwell very happy, Jacob," General Hammond commented, after the door had closed behind the irate Lieutenant Colonel.

Carter shrugged. "It's the best I can do for him, George. The Joint Chiefs have declared O'Neill untouchable as long as he can do what he does so well."

_What about when he no longer can do that?_ Hammond wondered, but he kept that thought to himself. "Was the reduction in rank really necessary?" he asked instead. "I'll concede he's a bit of a wild card, but he has a boy, who's about seven now. I'm not at all surprised that he wouldn't pull that trigger."

"The demotion can't be helped. Cromwell has a valid argument. O'Neill has had trouble with nearly every CO he's served under—Kawalsky notwithstanding."

"He was in Charles Kawalsky's unit for four years, Jacob. I saw all the reports. There were some rough patches, but never any official complaint. Isn't it possible that this trouble is because of conflict between his and Cromwell's personalities?"

"Hell, George! You know that's not an excuse! You suck it up and obey orders, no matter how much you dislike the _superior officer_ giving them. O'Neill questions too much. He's got a nasty temper and has been in detention several times for fighting. He needs a tighter rein. I'm a parent, too, and I agree that in this case the man acted as most of us would have, but many of the other incidents that Cromwell has documented indicate serious insubordination and conduct bordering on unbecoming. There has to be a consequence for that." Carter frowned. "He gets an administrative demotion because 'The Powers That Be' don't want this to go to court-martial. We can't afford to lose him. Not only that, but O'Neill has been involved in too many black ops missions over the past ten years. He knows too much."

Hammond was surprised by this last remark. "They think he might talk? Jack would never do that. The Iranians tortured him for months and he never talked. I've known him for a long time, Jacob. He's a better man than Cromwell paints him."

"Well, I'm glad you think so, George," Carter said with more than a touch of sarcasm. "Because I'm transferring him to your command." He smirked at the other man's expression.

"You're posting him to the Pentagon?" Hammond grimaced. "That should be worth watching."

"He'll still get pulled from time to time for 'special assignments'—you'd actually know more about that than I would. But on a day to day basis, he's all yours. Just keep him under control, George," Carter warned.

"Yes, sir." Hammond nodded. "I'll do my best."

"You said he has a family?"

"Wife and son. Sara and Charlie. They're in Florida. Jack's been based at Eglin for the past four years—attached to the 191st Special Operations Wing."

General Carter reached for the intercom. "Okay. Let's get him back in here and let him know he'll be moving to Virginia."

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***** The record for a sniper kill even today (never mind nearly 20 years ago) is notably shorter than the one I've attributed to Jack. But after all, it's an AU, and this is JACK! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Three days later -** **Lake Lorraine, FL, Near Eglin Air Force Base **

When the telephone rang Sara O'Neill was up to her elbows in lavender paint. "Charlie!" she called. "Answer that, would you. My hands are a mess."

"Yep." The boy appeared at the kitchen door and looked around. "Where's the phone?"

"Oh. Under the drop cloth there." She pointed to the lumpy plastic sheet in the corner of the room.

The phone shrilled twice more while he uncovered the instrument. "Hi! This is Charlie!" A huge smile broke over his face. "Hi, Daddy! Mommy, it's Daddy!"

On the other end of the line, Jack O'Neill smiled at the sound of his son's voice. "Hi, kiddo. How's it goin'?" Simply talking to the boy made warmth spread throughout his body. He felt himself begin to relax for the first time in weeks.

"It's good, Daddy. Where are you? Are you coming home?"

"I sure am, Charlie."

In the background Jack heard Sara's voice. "Talk to Daddy while I clean my hands, Charlie. Tell him I'll be right there."

Jack sighed. Sara wasn't going to be happy with this conversation. Not at all. He'd much rather talk to Charlie! The boy chattered on, about his little league team, and his friend's new puppy, and about mom painting the kitchen purple... Jack let the voice and the warmth wash over him, and he closed his eyes and pictured the light hair, and blue eyes—the eager, happy face...

Abruptly the image was replaced by that of the small, dark-haired boy in the dictator's arms. _It was the right thing to do. _ But the effect on his family... Sara wouldn't understand, because he couldn't tell her what had happened. Just like he'd never been able to explain so many things. Even if he were allowed to, how could he tell her what he did—what he was?

"When will you be home, Daddy?" Charlie's voice claimed his attention.

"It'll be a few days, son."

"But when?"

"Hopefully by the end of the week," he said.

"How many days is that, Daddy?" Charlie's voice overlapped with Sara's, "Give me the phone now, Charlie. Say goodbye to Daddy."

There was a small tussle over possession of the instrument, and finally a resigned, "Bye, Daddy."

"I love you, Charlie. I'll see you in a few days. Bye."

"Go and play now, Charlie." Sara smiled at her son and then turned to the phone; "Jack! How are you? Are you okay?" It had been six weeks since she heard from him this time, not his longest absence by any means. But she worried no matter how long he was gone. More than once he'd come home injured after weeks or months away.

"I'm fine, Babe. How are you?"

His voice sounded so good! "We're okay. Where are you, Jack?"

"I'm in Virginia."

That was unexpected. "Virginia? What are you doing there?"

"It's kind of a long story," he said. "I...uh. There was some trouble."

Her heart plummeted. "What kind of trouble? Are you really okay? Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I'm fine. Not that kind of trouble."

"All right." She was relieved, but still apprehensive. "What kind of trouble, then?"

He took a breath. _Might as well get it over with_. "I was called before the Disciplinary Board."

"Why?" she demanded. "Jack, what did you do?"

_Damn. She knew him too well._ "I refused to obey a direct order. Twice."

"Jack! A direct order? How could you?"

"It was not something I could do, Sara!" he snapped.

His tone made her own irritation rise. "It's the Air Force! An order is an order."

"Some of them are just wrong. I told you—I couldn't do it!"

"Couldn't do what?"

"You know I can't tell you that," he said impatiently. "I shouldn't even be talking about it on the phone." He stopped, and she heard him take a breath. When he spoke again, it was more calmly. "My hearing was this morning. They busted me down to captain."

"What! Oh my god! It was so bad that they demoted you?" she exclaimed. "What the hell were you thinking?" God, he could be so headstrong sometimes! She paused as something else dawned on her. "That means a pay cut, Jack."

"I know," he said.

"Things are tight enough as it is." The worry of making ends meet made her speak even more sharply. "I'll have to ask for more hours at the clinic..."

"Sara. There's more."

"More? What do you mean, more?"

"I've been transferred."

"What?!"

"I've been detached from the 191st and transferred to a branch of Air Force Security, at the Pentagon."

"At the Pentagon? We have to move?!" The thought sent a cold feeling down her spine.

"Yes."

There was a moment's silence, then a strangled sound from Sara. Charlie's voice piped up. "Mommy, what's wrong? Mommy?"

"Sara?"

When she spoke it sounded as if someone had punched her in the stomach. "I have a job here, Jack." She was struggling to hold back tears. "Charlie has school. We have friends..."

"I know. Sara, I'm sorry..."

"Mommy, why are you crying?" Charlie demanded fearfully.

Jack closed his eyes. His heart hurt.

Sara recovered; she took a harsh breath, and the firmness returned to her voice. "I'm fine, honey. It's nothing. Go back in the living room and watch the cartoons."

"I wanna talk to Daddy again."

"I'll call you before he hangs up and you can come say goodbye." She waited until he was out of the kitchen. "He's gone."

"Sara, I'm sorry..."

"You should be!" she said angrily. "You're disrupting our lives because you wouldn't obey an order! God, Jack. What about us? You're always gone... And now you're forcing us to leave here when I've worked so hard... We're your family, Jack! Do you ever think about us?" She stuttered over the words. There was so much she wanted to say...

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I... I'm..."

She didn't want to hear it. "I know," she cut in. "You're sorry. You said that. It doesn't help!"

He had nothing he could say to that. Telling her what had happened was out of the question, as she very well knew. She didn't offer anything more, either. The silence stretched to a full minute. When she finally spoke her tone was icy. "When will you be home?"

"Friday night. Late. I have to report to General Hammond's office for the rest of the week. I'll be working for him. Sara..."

She cut him off. "How long do we have?"

"A month. We can get base housing at Parrish Field until we find a place." He tried again, "Please..."

She interrupted again. "I'll have to look for another job. There must be hospitals and clinics around there that need trauma nurses."

He gave up. "Yes. I'm sure there are."

"I'll get Charlie now so you can say goodbye. Goodbye, Jack." She took the phone away from her ear.

He sighed. "Bye, Sara."

He could hear her calling to Charlie, and he heard the boy's steps running through the house.

"Watch the paint, Charlie," Sara's voice warned from a distance.

"Daddy?" Charlie said into the phone.

"I'm here, son."

"Why is Mommy mad?"

"She's not mad at you, Charlie. She's upset with me right now, but it'll be okay."

"When will you be home, Daddy?"

"It'll be late Friday night, kiddo. You'll be in bed already, so you'll see me when you get up Saturday morning."

"It'll be the weekend then, won't it?"

"That's right."

"And I won't have school, so we can play ball and stuff, right?"

"Right, Charlie. We'll spend the whole weekend together."

"You and me and Mommy?"

"Yes. I promise."

"Okay, Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Charlie. Charlie?"

"Yeh?"

"Go give Mommy a hug when you hang up. It'll make her feel better."

"Okay, Daddy."

"And I'll see you Saturday. Bye, Charlie."

"Bye, Daddy."

From the living room Sara heard Charlie hang up the phone. She wiped her tears away quickly and turned toward the door as he came from the kitchen. He crossed the room and climbed up onto the sofa beside her, his arms reaching out to wrap around her neck.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you everyone for all of the great reviews! I'm very happy that you find this story interesting. **

**Jack's friend Kawalsky appears in this and subsequent chapters. I will be spelling his first name "Charley" with a Y, to differentiate him from Jack's son Charlie. It helps me keep track of the characters in my head.**

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**Parrish Airfield, VA, Officers' barracks**

O'Neill hung up the receiver, and stood for a moment, leaning against the wall beside the pay phone. _Shit, shit, shit! That went well, Jack! _He sighed. At least Charlie was happy to hear from him...

He jumped when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"You done with the phone, Captain?"

Jack turned around, and was confronted with a familiar face.

"Jack!" the Colonel standing there said. "What are you doing here?"

"Kawalsky!" He reached out a hand to his friend and the two hugged and pounded each others' backs enthusiastically. He hadn't seen Charley Kawalsky in nine months, not since he had been transferred from his command to Frank Cromwell's. In his mid-forties, the Colonel was nearly ten years older than Jack, and had been Jack's CO on more than one occasion.

"Are you based here now?" Jack asked.

"Nah. Still in South Carolina. I just got in from... parts unknown," Kawalsky said, indicating that his just-completed assignment had been classified, just as Jack's was. "Heading home tomorrow. What about you? And what the hell is this?" He jabbed a finger at the captain's bars on Jack's collar.

"Short, sad story, Colonel," Jack said. "Let's just say Cromwell wasn't as tolerant a CO as you were."

Kawalsky did not look particularly surprised. "I see. Come on up to my room, and tell me whatever you can."

"You wanted to use the phone..."

"It can wait." Kawalsky brushed it off. "Come on."

Jack followed his friend down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the private rooms reserved for higher ranking officers. Kawalsky stopped at a door, used his key and let them inside.

"Have a seat," the Colonel said, indicating the only chair in the room. He reached under the bed and pulled out his duffle, and from it produced a bottle of forbidden bourbon. He sat down on the bed and opened the bottle, offering it to Jack.

"Thanks." Jack took a long pull, coughed and handed it back.

They passed the bottle back and forth for a while as Jack told Charley what had occurred in General Carter's office three days earlier, and described the complaint filed by Cromwell and the results of his Board hearing that morning. Gradually Jack felt the alcohol easing the tension in his chest.

"So what happened between you and Cromwell?" Kawalsky asked.

"I refused to follow an order," Jack said, speaking harshly at first, but then softening his tone. "Colonel, I swear to you—it was the right thing to do!"

"I don't doubt you, Jack. My guess is Frank didn't take any of that very well."

"Afraid not. He passed me when he left Carter's office, and he was about as pissed as I've ever seen anybody. He really wanted my balls in a vise. Guess I'm lucky they just broke me one grade. Cromwell was shooting to have me court-martialed."

Kawalsky studied his friend for a few moments. "Jack, they'd never court-martial you."

Jack frowned. "What does that mean?"

"You're too valuable. Nobody's as good as you with a long-range rifle. And that talent for strategy that you've got—it's almost like fortune-telling! You can do things nobody else can."

Jack stared at his friend. After a moment, he up-ended the bottle and took a large slug.

"Easy does it, Captain," Kawalsky warned. He took the bottle from Jack's hand.

Jack leaned his head against the chair back and closed his eyes. He hadn't heard the compliment in Kawalsky's statement, only the fact that he was being used. "I'm just their hired killer, Charley. Shit. General Carter looked at me like I was an insect. The Air Force don't care about me—they just need me."

"They do need you, Jack," his friend agreed. "They need somebody to do their dirty work. And that gives you a certain amount of protection—and special consideration."

"Huh?" Jack straightened and shot him a doubtful look.

"Think about it. Why would you be summoned to _General Carter's_ office? He's the Assistant Chief of Staff of the Air Force, for God's sake! Since when would he be dealing personally with a case of insubordination?"

Jack frowned as he considered that.

"And you said General Carter told you Friday about the demotion. Three days before the hearing?" Kawalsky asked pointedly.

"Yep. He told me what the decision was."

The Colonel grinned. "In other words, Carter told the board what to decide. Or his boss did. They don't want to punish you, Jack—they can't afford to lose you."

"They busted me, Charley! That's not punishment?" Jack took the bottle and drank again.

"Cromwell had already filed the complaint," Kawalsky pointed out. "I'm sure your records are flagged to the attention of the Air Force Chief's office. Any time your name comes up anywhere, they'd be notified. That notification was the first the Joint Chiefs knew about the complaint. It was too late by then for them to make it disappear. They had to let the board take some kind of action."

Jack mulled that over for a few moments. "At least General Carter transferred me out of Cromwell's unit."

"That's good. Where will you be?"

"Gonna be in th' Security Department. General Hammond's office." Jack's words were starting to slur.

"Hammond, huh? Word is, he's a good man to work for."

"Yeah. George is a good guy."

Kawalsky put up an eyebrow. "George?"

Jack reddened. "General Hammond is a family friend. Known him most of my life. He an' my Uncle Barry served together—in Korea in '58, and later in Laos and Nam. They were best friends for over 20 years. My uncle was killed in the Burma Conflict in '79. Since then George and I have stayed in touch." He shifted in his chair. "It pissed my Pops off royally when I joined the Air Force—'specially when the Academy recruited me. He hates th' military. Thought his kid brother was a moron for makin' a career of it." He groaned. "He'll go ballistic when he finds out about this."

Kawalsky made a sympathetic noise. "When do you report to Hammond?"

"I have to go in for the rest of this week. After that I've got a month's leave to move Sara and Charlie up from Florida and find a place to live. Crap. That was Sara I was on th' phone with. Told her about the demotion and transfer. She got pretty upset." He put his head in his hands. "She may not even let me in the door..."

"She'll get used to it..."

Jack shook his head. "No. She wasn't cut out to be a military wife, Charley. Even after all these years she doesn't understand. Sometimes I think she never should have married me."

"She loves you, Jack."

"And God knows I love her, too!" Jack exclaimed. "Still..."

"You'll work it out. This Pentagon assignment should give you more time together."

"I hope so, Charley. But they can always send me out again... whenever they want..."

It was an hour later when Jack left Kawalsky's room and went downstairs to the barracks hall where he'd been assigned a bunk. The place was deserted. It was only 20:00 hours, and the men who weren't on shift were probably eating or out for the evening. Jack stripped to his underwear and t-shirt and crawled into the narrow bed. He set the alarm on his wristwatch and lay there, thinking. It creeped him out that the Air Force Chief would be keeping track of him. Manipulating him. All because he was good at his job...

He turned over restlessly, punching the pillow into submission. After a while he fell into an uneasy sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I hope you continue to find it interesting!**

**Again I want to send out thanks for all of the wonderful and thoughtful reviews. I appreciate the time and effort that you take to write them.**

**This chapter is an attempt to fill in some of Sara's background. Of course this is an AU, so nothing here has anything to do with the "real" Sara anyway :-) Just want you to know where "my" Sara is coming from.**

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Sara allowed herself to indulge in the comfort of Charlie's hug for several moments before she eased him away gently and smiled into his eyes. His eyes were blue like hers, but otherwise he was the image of Jack at this age.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "What was that for?"

"Daddy said it would make you feel better. You love Daddy, don't you, Mommy? You're not mad at him, are you?"

She tried not to show how torn she was at his question. Sara's most important child-rearing rule was never to lie to Charlie, but obviously the plain, bald truth would not do here. She needed to express her feelings about Jack, but not to her son.

"Yes, of course, I love Daddy, Charlie. Just like I love you. Being mad with somebody doesn't mean you don't love them, sweetie. You know that sometimes you do things that upset me, but it doesn't mean I don't keep loving you. Once it's straightened out, everything's okay. Right?" She waited for his nod, then went on. "Well, it's the same between Mommy and Daddy. Sometimes one of us upsets the other, and we have to straighten it out. After we do, things will be fine. But we can't do that until he gets home. So, yes, right now, I'm upset with Daddy, but we'll fix it when he gets here. Do you understand?"

He nodded solemnly, and hugged her again. She held Charlie tight and glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. Quarter of six. Seventeen forty-five hours she translated automatically. Twelve years of marriage to Jack had established the habit of thinking in military time. It would be an hour later in Charleston, South Carolina, where her best friend, Megan, lived. She needed to talk to Megan. But not while Charlie could overhear.

Sara called Brenda, Charlie's friend Ricky's mom, and asked if Charlie could spend the night there tonight. "Jack called a while ago, and I just need some time to myself," she explained. Since Brenda's husband was also Air Force, it took only those few words to let her know the kind of mood Sara was in, and she immediately said yes. Charlie was thrilled at the idea, of course, and they packed a few things in his backpack and jumped in the car.

Once she dropped Charlie off at Ricky's, Sara headed quickly back home. Now that she was alone, she didn't have the strength to hold back her emotions. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she cursed Jack out loud for his bullheadedness and lack of concern for her and his son. She could not wait to get home and call Megan.

Being best friends with Jack's Commanding Officer's wife had been an incredible bit of good luck for Sara during the four years their husbands were in the same unit. She hated it when Charley and Megan Kawalsky were transferred to Charleston last year and Jack was reassigned to Lt. Colonel Cromwell's squad. And she knew Jack hadn't liked it either—it was clear that he did not get along well with his new CO. If she were honest, she would have to admit that things had been strained between her and Jack for the past few months, and a large part of the reason was how poorly he'd handled the reassignment.

Finally, back at the house, she picked up the phone and dialed Megan Kawalsky's number.

"Hello."

Just hearing her friend's voice made her choke up again. "Hi, Meg. It's me. Are you busy?"

"What's wrong, Sara? Are you okay? Are Jack and Charlie okay?" Megan demanded at once. And Sara started to cry.

In between pauses for sobbing and blowing her nose, Sara poured out the conversation between her and Jack. Once Megan Kawalsky was assured that her friend's family was safe, she became very calm and focused, an attitude that she knew would help Sara regain control. The conversation between the two women lasted for more than three hours.

A clinical psychologist, Meg was an expert at reading people—and over the years she had learned every nuance of Sara's moods and personality. Sara had come to depend on the older woman's quiet composure.

Unlike Meg, who was an Army brat herself, Sara had a great deal of trouble with some aspects of being married to the military.

Sara's family was large, stable and settled, having lived in the same Chicago neighborhood for several generations. Growing up, she had always had the support of this great extended family. At the age of eighteen she rebelled momentarily against all that closeness. Her small mutiny consisted of deciding to go out of state for college—she chose to go to nursing school at the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. There she met Jack, who was in his second year at the Air Force Academy. She fell for the tall, handsome young cadet almost immediately and was thrilled when he returned her feelings.

Some years later, she admitted to Meg that Jack also being from Chicago had made her feel as if she was marrying a hometown boy, and perhaps had given her a false sense of security. The possibility of frequent and long-distance postings had not sunk in. At the time of their wedding, two years after Jack's graduation, he was assigned to Peterson AFB in Colorado Springs, and Sara, though only newly graduated herself, had a good job at a nearby hospital. Jack was 25, Sara was 22.

She missed her home and family, but found that living in Colorado wasn't all that bad—it wasn't Chicago, but it was only a two and a half hour flight away. At first she didn't question the fact that Jack was away from home for several weeks at a time—she accepted his explanation of 'maneuvers' or 'temporary' assignments. She assumed it was because he was in the early years of his Air Force career. When he had more seniority, she thought, he would have more permanence. Meg could have set her straight about that, but of course she didn't know Meg at the time.

During the first seven years of their marriage, Jack was transferred six times—more often than the norm, but then his assignment to Special Operations was anything but normal. Sara hated the frequent moves. Having to look for a new job every few months was nerve wracking—thank goodness she was really good at what she did—trauma and ER nurses were usually in demand. Settling into each new post was difficult, especially since Jack was gone more often than not. In addition because she was shy, she did not make friends easily, and had made only one or two that she kept in touch with over the years.

Also, after five years of trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant, Charlie was finally born and, after a brief period of euphoria, things got twice as complicated. For the first year after his birth, Sara stayed at home, feeling isolated and alone. Jack was at home only half a dozen times during that year, and the longest period by far was for five weeks. By now she knew, of course, that the missions he went on were dangerous and classified. She was not allowed to know where he was or what he was doing. Only if the worst happened would she be notified. It was truly a case of 'no news is good news.' Her feelings of isolation increased exponentially.

The stress proved to be more than she could take. When Charlie was nine months old, and she had not heard from Jack in over ten weeks, she packed their bags, and went to her parents' house, where she was welcomed back into the nurturing and secure cocoon of her family. She stayed for nearly six months. It took many conversations, and eventually, sessions with a marriage and family counselor before she was willing to return.

Those were sessions from Hell for Jack, and only the thought of losing his son made him force himself to go through them.

The following year, Jack was transferred to Eglin Air Force Base, to Major Charles Kawalsky's Special Ops team. The assignment to Florida was a godsend!

Megan Kawalsky recalled the scared, angry young woman whom she met the week that first time at Eglin. Sara was silent and anti-social and would barely carry on a conversation. She never let Charlie out of her grasp—or Jack out of her sight. It amazed Megan when she found out that this withdrawn girl actually worked as a trauma nurse in a nearby hospital, and was efficient, decisive and forceful when she was on the job.

Sara began to regain her equilibrium gradually during the first year at Eglin—of course, it helped that she also found the best friend she would ever have. Today She had a steady part-time job, she had a real circle of friends, she had a small house in a nearby town that she had re-done to her own tastes. Charlie was in second grade, and belonged to Little League, and had lots of playmates. They both love the beach and the Florida sun. Sara felt as if they were a part of a community. Two and a half years ago, when Jack was MIA for four months, that community, and the Kawalskys' support, had kept her going.

In spite of Jack's frequent and lengthy absences, Sara finally felt safe and settled.

Megan understood that after nearly five years in one place, this move was probably going to be harder for Sara than even those earliest ones had been.

It was nearly ten o'clock when Sara hung up the phone. It had been good to be able to unburden herself to Megan. She knew it was safe to express all of her negative feelings to her friend, who understood where she was coming from and would never repeat what she said.

Sara sat for another half hour, thinking. She was glad Jack wasn't coming home for a few days. Right now she didn't want him anywhere near her. Meg, as always, had tried to help her gain perspective on the situation. She now realized that it was the transfer that had upset her the most, and part of her knew Meg was right when she said Jack was not in control of that—he could have been transferred at any time, no matter what else happened. But Sara was running on feelings right now, and what she felt was angry and betrayed and resentful—and the target for all of that was Jack. She would need those four days until he came home in order to come to terms with the situation, and decide what to do.


	6. Chapter 6

After Jack left for the barracks hall, Charley Kawalsky headed back out to the telephone. He dialed his home number, and listened to the busy signal beeping in his ear. _Well, of course the line's busy,_ he thought, hanging up. _What else did I expect?_ Megan would be on the phone with Sara O'Neill. The two women were as close as sisters, even though they lived several hundred miles apart. Sara would probably have called Meggie as soon as she hung up with Jack. Kawalsky chuckled: He probably wouldn't get through to his wife tonight. The girls would be talking til midnight. With a rueful shake of his head, Charley headed out to the Officers' Club.

He ate dinner there, and talked with a couple of men he knew. He was just finishing up his dessert, when a burly figure loomed above him.

"Colonel Kawalsky!" The greeting did not sound cordial.

Charley looked up. "Frank." He nodded to Lt. Colonel Cromwell, ignoring the hint of animosity in the other officer's attiude. "I heard you were in town. How's it going?" He waved at the seat opposite, and Cromwell sat down.

"I've had better weeks," Cromwell said shortly.

"Ah. The O'Neill hearing."

Frank's eyes narrowed. "How'd you know about that?"

"I saw Jack earlier."

"So _Captain_ O'Neill told you his version of what happened."

Kawalsky shook his head. "You know better than that, Frank. Jack wouldn't reveal details of a classified mission. All he said was that he's been busted and transferred, because he refused to follow orders."

"A _direct_ order!" Cromwell clarified vehemently. "I gave him a direct order and he said 'No, sir'! Twice! He should've been court-martialed! Instead they slapped his wrist."

"Jack can be difficult," Kawalsky commented mildly.

"How the hell did you tolerate him on your team for four years? He's an insubordinate son of a bitch!"

Kawalsky's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Cromwell. Jack was my friend long before he was on my team. He saved my life in Nam. Risked his own life for me and 22 other prisoners in a VC camp." He drew a breath and waited until Cromwell glanced aside, then switched to another tack. "You always were a real stickler for following the rule book, Frank."

"It's the rules that keep the military together, Colonel."

Charley had to wonder who had ever thought it a good idea to give Cromwell a special ops team! "You know that what we do skirts along the edges of all the rules," he said. "Half of it isn't even in the book." Cromwell opened his mouth again, but Kawalsky cut him off. "Tell me, Frank, has O'Neill ever failed to carry out a mission?"

"We've had failures, yeah."

"Any of them his fault?"

Cromwell was silent for a minute. "No," he finally admitted bitterly.

Kawalsky smiled. "That is one thing I do like about you, Frank. You always tell the truth, even if it kills you."

Cromwell glanced away again, belligerently this time, yet feeling oddly complimented.

"Jack never screwed up a mission for me, either. He succeeds! He's the _best _at what we do. And that's the bottom line." Kawalsky took the last bite of his chocolate pie, wiped his hands on his napkin and stood up. "It was nice to see you, Frank."

Cromwell came to his feet. "Colonel!" he responded.

Kawalsky walked away. He left the officers' club and headed back toward the barracks, thinking about Jack O'Neill.

Charley had known O'Neill for twenty years, since soon after the younger man had joined the Air Force right out of high school. After basic training, Jack was assigned to a helicopter rescue unit bound for Nam. Charley was the captain in charge of that unit. Four months into the tour, Kawalsky and two other airmen in the squad were captured by enemy guerillas. Jack led the rescue mission that found them ten days later and freed them, along with twenty other American POWs—blowing up the prison camp in the process. O'Neill received a Bronze Star with Valor Device for his actions in that rescue. Over the eighteen months he was there, Jack successfully led several other missions into enemy territory, some rescue, some offensive. At the end of the tour, Charley recommended Jack for admittance to the Air Force Academy.

The two men didn't see each other very often over the next several years, but they stayed in touch, and stayed close friends. Jack graduated from the Academy a second lieutenant, and despite excelling in all aspects of pilot training, he was recruited directly into special ops. Two years later, he married Sara Conway, whom he'd met while he was at the Academy.

Five years ago, Kawalsky was promoted to Lt. Colonel, and put in charge of a special ops unit. He had some input as to who would be on the team and he asked for Jack. The unit was attached to the 191st Special Operations Wing, and based at Eglin AFB.

Kawalsky had read the evaluations of Jack's previous COs. They called him reckless, defiant, bullheaded, even insubordinate. On many points, Charley had to agree. Jack was one of the most difficult people he had ever known. He was also one of the most able and loyal. Charley wanted Jack on his team, but the first few months had been hard. Jack could not tolerate inaction. He lost his temper easily. He was impatient with the planning stages of a mission, and would sometimes walk away while details were being clarified—however his apparent inattention never prevented him for carrying out his part of the plan. His skill with firearms was unequaled, and his kill record as a sniper was near perfect.

Charley remembered the mission that had finally given him insight into how Jack ticked. It was about six months after Jack was assigned to the team.

The mission turned out to be mostly waiting time. The team was holed up in an isolated camp in the mountains of one of those countries whose name ended with "stan". Charley wasn't even sure which one, since the borders were rather unstable at the time.

Charley and the other team members—Major Alan Reynolds, Major David Dixon, Captain Lou Ferretti—killed time by playing endless games of chess. When they invited Jack to join them he declined. Instead he paced and groused and complained and made a general nuisance of himself. He hated being bored, and this was the worst kind of boredom. After only a day it felt as if they had a bear in the camp.

The team was waiting on intelligence that was supposed have been there ahead of them—and wasn't anywhere in sight. Kawalsky remembered how frustrated he himself had been about it. On the second day, Jack began to insist that they didn't need the intel—that they had everything they needed and they should just get on with the mission. Kawalsky told him no, of course, and Jack blew a minor gasket, saying that he could do the job without outside help. When Kawalsky ordered him to stand down, Jack was clearly pissed, but forced himself to walk away. He'd settled down after a while, and they kept waiting.

Jack began watching the chess games, sometimes rolling his eyes as if he thought they were stupid. That didn't go over well. Finally, the guys all got fed up and challenged him to play. Jack said he didn't know how, so Kawalsky offered to teach him. He must have been insanely bored, because he agreed.

Charley went over the moves and the rules, and then they played a starter game. Charley won, but Jack played very well—and he completely understood what each piece could do. The others accused him of lying when he said he didn't play, but he insisted that he'd just been watching them. By the third game, he beat Kawalsky. Charley hadn't given him the game, either. After that, Jack wouldn't play any more.

"That chess game was simply child's play as far as he was concerned!" Kawalsky said when he told his wife about the incident some time later. "Every potential move on the board was obvious to him. That's when I realized that when it comes to strategy, Jack sees way ahead of the rest of us. I think he argues about an order because he can anticipate the next problem that could result... and the next and the next. Remember that missing intel? He could see a way to skip completely over the need for it. But he doesn't really know _how_ he knows, he can't explain it. And that makes him frustrated and angry. Once I learned to listen to him when he'd get that way, it made things a lot easier."

From then on Kawalsky began to bring Jack in more and more at the planning stage of missions. Gradually Jack became more able to explain himself to his teammates, as long as they were patient with him. The result was an even better track record for the team. Charley was promoted to full bird Colonel and Jack to Major.

After a time, the team's success brought Kawalsky to the attention of General R. L. Ramsey, head of Air Force Security and General George Hammond's immediate superior. Charley was reassigned to head Special Operations Training and was based at Jackson AFB, outside Charleston, SC. The team was reassigned, and Jack was transferred to Lt. Colonel Frank Cromwell's unit. Charley could see in retrospect that this had not been the best possible choice.

**~x~**

Kawalsky had tried his home phone twice during the evening, with no luck. When he returned to the barracks it was 22:55 and he tried one last time to reach Meggie. This time the number rang through.

"Hi, sweetheart," Charley said, when his wife answered.

"Charley! Hi, hon! Where are you?"

"Parrish Field, in Virginia. Coming home tomorrow."

"That's great! I heard from Wendy the other day," she said, referring to their daughter, who was a sophomore at the University of Alabama. They talked for several minutes about Wendy, and about other things that had been happening. Charley had been gone nearly a month on this assignment.

"So how's Sara doing with Jack's latest developments?" he asked eventually.

"Not too great right now. How did you...?"

"Jack's here. I saw him right after he called Sara." He grinned to himself. "And I've been trying to call you for the last couple of hours."

"Ahh. Yes, we just hung up a few minutes ago. Did Jack explain anything to you? Sara doesn't know what hit her."

"You know we can't talk about this stuff, hon. No, he didn't explain. But I trust Jack. If he says he couldn't comply, then I believe him."

"Damn, you guys always stand up for each other," Megan griped good-naturedly, caught between her loyalty to her friend, and the respect she had for that very quality in her husband.

"I know him, Meggie. He wouldn't hurt her if he had any choice."

"Yeah. By the end of our conversation, I think she was beginning to realize that. It's really having to move that bothers her the most."

"The transfer. Jack will be better off in a different command, honey. He'll be working at the Pentagon for General George Hammond—who it turns out is an old acquaintance and friend of his." Charley thought he was safe saying that much. "Not that he's likely to be easy on Jack because of it—but he may be more understanding. And Jack should be home with Sara and Charlie more."

"That would definitely be a good thing," Meg agreed. "She just sounded so... defeated. I think she'd half convinced herself that Eglin was permanent."

"She should know better than that," he said, not unkindly.

"Yes. But you know how she is about that kind of thing." Meg sighed. "She's worked hard to make things stable there for her and Charlie. And she feels like she's raising him by herself! She does all the dirty work—the rules and the discipline and school problems and temper tantrums. Then Jack comes home and it's a vacation! Playgrounds and beaches and ball games. Charlie runs wild. And when Jack leaves again, Charlie turns into a monster for a couple of weeks and she has to deal with it."

He was frowning. "Is it really like that for her?"

"That's what it sounds like, the way she talks."

"Does she talk to Jack about it?"

"I don't think so. I think she's afraid he'll think she can't handle it, or she's not being a good mother or something. And you know what a short temper he has sometimes."

"He loves her, honey. And he absolutely worships Charlie. He used to talk about everything that he was missing when we were away. And he always said what a great parent Sara is."

Megan sighed. "He should tell that to _her_ now and then. I'm worried about her, Charley. I just don't know if she can handle the move to Virginia."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story!**

**This is a ****slightly**** more lighthearted chapter. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

His orders had stated that he should report to General Hammond's office in the Pentagon, room B3126, at 0900 on the morning of Tuesday, March 16, 1993. Jack paused outside the door to straighten the jacket of his dress uniform, and smooth his hand over his tie. His watch read 0855 when he walked into the outer office, paused and looked around.

There were five people in the office. Two female lieutenants sat at computer stations to his right. A male lieutenant occupied a third station nearby. On the left was a large desk, situated so that it guarded an inner office door; the captain seated there raised his eyes after a moment and looked at Jack inquiringly.

The fifth person was seated on a small couch against the wall near the desk. She was also a captain, young—no older than twenty-five, Jack guessed. Her gold-blonde hair cut quite short. Her head was tilted forward, eyes lowered to the periodical she was reading; he could see the smooth curve of her cheek and noted the clear, smooth texture of her skin. He noticed her legs, long and slim, emerging below her hemline, shapely ankles crossed gracefully.

She was in dress blues, and he saw more than the average number of ribbons on her jacket. One in particular caught his eye, because he had one exactly like it: the green, white and gold Air Combat ribbon from the recent Iran Campaign. Senior Aviator Wings perched above the ribbons. _A pilot, then, also._ _Obviously she'd seen action..._

"May I help you, Captain?" the captain at the desk asked, and Jack stepped forward and focused his attention on the man.

"Captain Jonathan J. O'Neill, reporting as ordered to General Hammond."

The captain—his nametag read K. Wilkes—nodded. "Yes, Captain O'Neill. Please take a seat. I'll let the General know you're here." He indicated the couch where the blonde captain was sitting.

"Thank you." Jack turned in that direction.

She raised her head as he approached and looked straight into his eyes. Her eyes were very blue. Startlingly blue. Large and beautiful, with thick lashes darker than her hair. He stared for a moment before averting his gaze. She moved over slightly to make more room as he reached the couch.

"Thank you," he said as he sat down.

She smiled the most stunning smile he had ever seen. "You're welcome." Then she went back to her reading.

The afterimage of her smile clung to his retinas. He deliberately turned away, looking toward the desk where Captain Wilkes was now speaking softly on the phone.

Jack was overcome with the urge to squirm. Was it too warm in here? He ran a finger around his collar, and stared across the room, inadvertently meeting the eyes of one of the female lieutenants at a computer, who was staring at him unabashedly. When she saw his eyes on her, she smiled—a flirtly, steamy smile. She was quite pretty, with curly dark hair and wide dark eyes. She ran her tongue slowly over her lips. He gulped and looked away. He thought he heard a chuckle from beside him, but didn't dare turn to check!

"Captain..." Wilkes began to speak, and both Jack and the woman beside him tensed. "...Carter. The General will see you now."

Jack's head whipped to the side, and he caught a glimpse of her nametag as she rose; S. Carter.

She was on her feet and heading for the inner office door. Her smile was bestowed on the aide. "Thanks, Kevin."

"You bet, Sam." Wilkes grinned widely. "He seems in a good mood today."

"He usually is, isn't he?" she laughed.

He nodded. "Usually."

She opened the door and vanished inside.

Jack stared at the closed door. _Carter? Surely no relation to... No, it was a common enough name._

"Is something wrong, Captain O'Neill?"

He looked at Wilkes, then glanced away. "No... nothing, Captain. I just... uh. Nothing."

"The General shouldn't be very long," Wilkes assured him, and turned back to his work.

Jack tried to relax back against the couch. He glanced around again, only to find the pretty lieutenant still staring boldly at him. Feeling the blush rise in his face, he deliberately raised his left hand, turning it so his wedding ring showed clearly. She did not appear even slightly disappointed—not fazed in the least! Instead she lowered her head a little and looked up at him through her lashes—_her very long, thick, dark lashes!_—a look that said quite clearly, _So what? _

It was a moment before he could force himself to look away, and when he did, he realized that Wilkes was watching.

Wilkes gave a slight roll of his eyes. "Lt. Johnson!"

The dark-haired young woman took her time refocusing her attention. "Yes, sir."

"Do you need something in order to finish with that report?"

_Nothing you can give me. _ The words almost hung in the air, and Jack was startled to realize a second later that they had not been spoken aloud. 

"No, sir," she said to Wilkes.

"Then...?" Wilkes prompted.

"Yes, sir." She shot another look at Jack, and then returned to her keyboard.

XXXX

"Good to see you, Samantha!" General Hammond got up and came around his desk to give his niece a hug.

"Hi, Uncle George!" Samantha Carter returned the embrace enthusiastically. George was her favorite uncle, after all. "I just got back, and thought I'd stop and say hello."

"I'm glad you did." Hammond waved her to one of the guest chairs, and seated himself in the other, nearby, rather than retreat behind his desk again.

"How're Aunt Marty and the girls?" she asked, referring to Hammond's wife and daughters.

"They're fine. Julia has a job at a children's camp for this coming summer."

"Perfect! That sounds like something she'll love."

Sam's cousin Julia was a junior at the University of Pennsylvania, majoring in social work and early childhood education. Hammond's older daughter, Melanie, was married and living in New York. Mel was nearer Sam's age and the two had been close growing up. She and her husband were expecting a baby soon. Sam and the General talked for a while about the family, and especially the impending birth of George's first grandchild.

"So have you seen your father yet?" Hammond changed the subject after a while.

Sam's expression soured slightly. "Not yet. He's _unavailable_ today. Some sort of high-level meetings that are going to take all day. We talked briefly on the phone last night after I got in, though. He seemed pretty distracted. We're supposed to meet for lunch tomorrow, but you know how successful those arrangements usually are."

"Jacob is a busy man." Hammond commented.

"So he is constantly reminding me." There was a familiar edge in Sam's voice.

Hammond decided it was time to change the subject again! "Do you know what you'll be doing now that you're back from this last assignment?"

"No. I guess I'll find out next week. I'm to report to General West on the twenty-second."

"Warren West?" Hammond asked.

"That's right. You must know him."

"Only slightly. His specialty is weaponry. His last project was the Mars VI surface to air missile. That was four years ago."

"That was a very advanced piece of ordnance," she said. "It was used in Iran."

"Yes," he said. "West is probably on to some new weapon now."

Sam rolled her eyes. "So I may be stuck in a lab creating new killing machines."

"Come and see me if that's the case. Maybe I can get you moved over to my department."

"Now, what would I do in Security Special Ops, Uncle George?" she grinned. "At least in weaponry I'm in science."

"You'd be surprised how much scientific know-how we need to interpret some of our intel." He smiled when she wrinkled her nose in disbelief. "Well, I'm here if you need me," he promised.

"I know. Thanks." She stood up and he followed her and she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I won't stay any longer. You've got someone else out there waiting to see you. A Captain O'Neill."

"Yes. Jack." Hammond nodded. "He's just been assigned to my office."

"Has he? He doesn't look like the office type."

"Well... he's not... actually..."

"But you can't say what he is—I get it." She laughed. "One of your aides sure looked interested in him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. She was flirting with him from across the room."

He made a sound in his throat. "That would probably be Lt. Kerry Johnson."

"Dark curly hair. Pretty."

"That's Johnson. She flirts with every male that comes through the door."

"Captain O'Neill didn't look comfortable with it."

"I would think not. Jack has a wife and son." Hammond sounded faintly put out.

"A lot of men wouldn't let that stop them, Uncle George."

"I certainly hope Jack would. He's just been transferred here. His family's in Florida. Do you remember me talking about Major Barry O'Neill? We served together."

"Yes. I remember the name. He was killed in Burma, wasn't he?"

George nodded sadly. "That's right. Well, Jack is his nephew. I watched him grow up. We've stayed in touch."

"Okay, then." She stood and he followed suit. "I'll get out of here and let you talk to him."

They shared another hug and he walked her to the door. "Give your aunt a call," he suggested as he opened the door for her.

"I'll do that right away, sir." She smiled at him and then gave Captain Wilkes a brief grin and headed for the door. Her gaze crossed that of Captain O'Neill, who had risen, along with the rest of the staff, when the General appeared, and she sent him a small nod.

Hammond watched Samantha until she exited the office, and then glanced around the room. "Back to work, people. Jack, come on in."

After a glance at the door Captain Carter had disappeared through, Jack followed the General into his office.

"Have a seat, Jack." Hammond pointed to the visitor chair, as he circled his desk and sat down.

"Thank you, sir." Jack waited a moment until the General was settled, then seated himself.

"So, you got your orders, I presume?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

Hammond studied the younger man, who looked stiff and uncomfortable even seated. "You can relax, Jack. I'm happy to have you here. I'm pleased that General Carter assigned you to my office. I'm not sure it was his intention to please me, but it did."

Jack had to smirk at that. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."

"We're still friends, Jack. You haven't called me 'sir' in years."

"I've never been in your chain of command, either. Sir. I doubt if Captain Wilkes ever calls you George."

Hammond smiled. "You have a point. But in private conversation, there's no need to be formal."

"Thank you, George." He hesitated. "Could I ask a question?"

"Certainly, Jack. What is it?"

"The captain who just left? I noticed her name is Carter? Is she...?"

"Related to General Carter? That's his daughter."

"Oh."

Hammond chuckled. "She's also my niece."

"Your niece?"

"Yes. Her late mother and my wife were sisters. Was there a reason you wanted to know?"

"No. No, I just noticed the name. And General Carter is rather large on my radar right now," Jack added ruefully.

George Hammond laughed aloud at that. "Yes, I can see why that would be the case. He is a rather imposing personage, isn't he?"

Jack grinned. "Absolutely. Not unlike yourself, General."

"Me? I'm just a farmboy from Texas, son," was the reply in a deliberately broad Texas drawl.

The two men laughed together.

"Well," Hammond said a few minutes later. "I expect you'd like to know just what you'll be doing around here."

"Yes, sir. I would." When he saw the General's raised brow, Jack went on, "We're on professional ground now, sir."

"Good enough." Hammond nodded, then his expression became serious and Jack straightened. "The Air Force Security Department has several divisions. My specific responsibilities include the AFCIS and the Covert Ops Divisions. AFCIS is the Air Force Criminal Investigation Service. It's partially staffed by civilians and they investigate civilian crimes involving Air Force personnel. You won't be concerned with that unless it overlaps with your section. What I have in mind is to put you in the Analysis and Planning Section of Covert Ops. We receive a huge amount of intelligence from many different sources. Most of it is not useful. Once the useful stuff has been sorted out then we have to analyze it and determine if any action should be taken. If action is warranted, then we make a plan. That's where I want you, Jack. You'll be examining intel and determining what use we can put it to. That's going to be your job in a nutshell."

"Yes, sir."

"So. I'll introduce you to the people you'll be working with and you can become familiar with the operation. How does that sound?"

"That sounds fine, sir."

"We'll start with the staff of this office."

Hammond rose from his chair and Jack followed suit. He followed the General into the outer office, where the staff rose at his entrance.

"I wish they wouldn't do that," Hammond muttered. Then he spoke up; "People, I want to introduce a new member of our staff. He'll be working in Analysis and Planning. This is Captain Jack O'Neill." Hammond named each one of the aides in the office. "Captain Kevin Wilkes." Then the computer operators. "Lt. Joseph Leeds. Lt. Jane Parker. Lt. Kerry Johnson."

Jack nodded to each one, receiving a very broad wink from Kerry Johnson when she was sure Hammond wasn't watching.

"I'll be taking Jack to Analysis," he told Wilkes, and then indicated that Jack should precede him out into the corridor.

Jack spent the next three days familiarizing himself with the people and organization of the Analysis and Planning Section of the Security and Special Ops Department. His immediate superior in the section was Major Harold Maybourne. Jack took an instant dislike to the man's personality, but he quickly realized that Maybourne was an expert when it came to intelligence analysis. Quelling his negative feelings, Jack settled in to learn what he could from the Major.

Except for a couple of awkward encounters with Lt. Kerry Johnson, the week went quite smoothly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry it took so long to update this story. Thank you all for the reviews!**

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General Hammond dismissed his staff early on Friday, so Jack was able to catch a transport leaving Andrews for Eglin at 1600. He arrived in Lake Lorraine at 1830 local time. Sara and Charlie were just sitting down to eat supper.

Charlie flung himself excitedly into Jack's arms, nearly knocking him down. "Daddy! You're home."

"Hey, sport, take it easy," Jack laughed, looking over the boy's head to smile at Sara.

Her return smile was not all he could have hoped for, but at least it was a smile.

"We didn't think you'd be here until late tonight," she said.

"I didn't either," he replied, trying to loosen Charlie's grip on his neck. "General Hammond dismissed us early because his daughter had a baby last night and he's going to New York to meet his brand new granddaughter this weekend... Oof! Careful, kiddo!" He gave up on getting Charlie off, and sat down at the table with the boy in his lap. "Let me say hi to Mom."

He leaned over and kissed his wife softly on the lips. She accepted his kiss, but did not invite it to linger.

"Can we go to the beach tomorrow, Daddy? And we can go to Ricky's to see his new puppy! It's a black lab and his name is Inky! How long are you going to stay, Daddy..."

Charlie was talking so fast that Jack soon lost track of everything he was saying. "Charlie, sit down and eat your supper."

Reluctantly Charlie began to slow down, and after a few minutes he got down from Jack's lap and went to his own seat. Sara had already put her son's food on his plate, and she got up and got dishes for Jack. "Take your jacket off and be comfortable, Jack," she said, spooning chicken casserole and tossed salad onto his plate.

He got up and took off his uniform coat, taking it into the living room and hanging it in the coat closet. He pulled off his tie and hooked it over the hanger. It was much warmer in Florida than it had been in D.C., so he rolled up his sleeves before returning to the table.

"Thank you," he said as Sara handed him silverware and a glass of iced tea.

"Daddy, can we..." Charlie began again.

"We'll have plenty of time to do stuff, Charlie," Jack interrupted. "Just slow down. After supper you can tell me everything that's going on." Jack was watching Sara all the time he was talking to Charlie, but she was focused on her own meal. He wanted her to look at him. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

Charlie finished eating first, of course. He danced from one foot to the other impatiently while Jack ate. As soon as Jack was done, he grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the table. "C'mon, Daddy. I want to show you..."

"Charlie, hold on..." Jack turned to Sara.

"Go ahead," she said, rising to clear the table. "We can talk later."

He felt dismissed, and he looked back at her as his son dragged him away.

But soon he was smiling as Charlie told him about school, showed him samples of his schoolwork, talked about his classmates and told Jack about a recent field trip the class had taken to a hands-on children's science museum. "We got to play with magnets, Daddy!" He described the home run he'd hit at his last little league game. "It just kept going and going, Daddy! Going, going—gone!"

He hugged his son. "Good for you, Charlie!"

Jack changed out of his uniform, and they went outside and played pitch until it got dark. Charlie wanted to show him how he could hit, but the houses were too close together for that. "We'll go to the park tomorrow and you can show me," Jack promised.

They sat on the porch steps and talked some more. When they went back inside, they played a game of dominoes, and then ended up wrestling on the living room floor. After another hour or so, Charlie fell asleep on the couch and Jack carried him to his room, removed his clothes and got him into his pajamas. Then he sat on the side of the bed and watched him sleep for a while. He thought how much he'd missed just watching Charlie sleep, and his chest got tight. _Did the parents of the little dark-haired boy watch their son sleep? _

He wiped away the moisture from his eyes, and bent down to kiss the side of his son's head.

When he came back out into the living room, Sara was sitting on the couch with a book in her lap. The only light was the reading lamp at her side. She put her finger on her place on the page and looked up at Jack. "Is he asleep?"

"Out cold." He stood there looking at her. Her blue eyes were gray in the shadows, and her blonde hair created a glow of its own. He sat down beside her, and reached over to brush his knuckles across her cheek. "I missed you."

"We missed you, too." She closed the book and set it on the coffee table, then turned toward him.

He responded immediately by pulling her close and holding her tight. She was overwhelmed with the warmth his closeness always aroused in her. When his lips sought hers, she returned the kiss.

For a moment he thought it was going to be all right, but then she drew away, and moved out of his embrace before she spoke.

"Jack, we need to talk."

He stared at her... The way the light behind her made a glowing halo of her hair. The way her eyes were hidden in shadow. The graceful curve of her throat rising out of the low cut neck of her tank top. Her long legs extending from the shorts she was wearing. She was biting her lower lip making the natural pout that he loved vanish between white teeth. That meant she was nervous. Did he make her nervous?

Her eyes were hidden in shadow...

Suddenly he was the one who was nervous. He stood up.

"Jack?"

"I'm not going anywhere. Just turning on the light." He went over to the wall and flipped the switch. She blinked in the sudden brightness. "I couldn't see your beautiful eyes." She blushed, and he grinned and returned to the couch.

"Jack..."

"Okay. Sorry. You want to talk... I get it."

"Do you?"

He let his gaze roam over her face, taking in her beauty... and unhappiness, and half-concealed anger. His whole heart softened. He hated the unhappiness most, hated that he caused it. When he spoke, it was very quietly. "Yeah. You're upset. You're angry... with me. I don't blame you. I'm sorry."

She sighed. He had just taken the wind out of her sails. Just a few words. An offhand apology. And that incredibly sincere 'Jack look' in his eyes. Damn.

_But an apology just wasn't enough! _ Her resentment flared again and she plunged in without really thinking.

"Yes, I'm upset, damn it! This place is home for us—Charlie and me! I don't know how you feel about it—you've been gone so much, I doubt if it matters to _you_ where we live! But it matters to me! And I don't even get asked! When you get transferred, nobody asks how I feel about it." She paused a second to breathe. "Oh, I know that's how the Air Force works, Jack. But Charlie can't remember living anywhere else. He's in school now and he doesn't deserve to have to leave his friends and everything he knows whenever your superiors decide to move you. Damn it, Jack! Couldn't you for once have kept yourself..." She stopped, bringing a fist to her mouth. "Shit," she whispered after a moment. "I promised myself I wouldn't say anything like that."

"Say whatever you need to say, Sara," Jack said softly. He could feel a painful knot growing in his gut.

She was silent for what seemed like a long time. "I don't want to move away from here," she said finally. She waited a moment for him to respond, and when he didn't, she went on. "But I was sitting here before you came in. Thinking how much I love you! I love you, Jack, and I don't want this to tear us apart. I'm just so upset, and... and angry right now, and I don't know what to do about how I feel. I know it isn't your fault..." She fell silent, staring down at her hands in her lap.

He shifted uncomfortably, and it was several beats before he spoke. "It _is_ my fault. If I had obeyed the order, this wouldn't have happened—I wouldn't have been removed from Cromwell's team." There was a long pause. "I can't defend myself for this, Sara. Because I can't tell you what happened. I know that's not fair. It's never been fair to you. My job requires you to trust me completely, and I can't give you anything to base that trust on except my word. I'm asking you to believe me when I say that if I had followed that order something totally... unacceptable... would have happened—even though we'd have accomplished our objective." He hesitated again. "And I truly believe that you would have agreed with me."

She had raised her head as he was speaking, and was staring at him. In the fifteen years she'd known him, he'd never shared this much of his feelings about the job he did and the way it affected their relationship. Instead he'd always dodged the question with the 'classified' excuse. It was encouraging and terrifying at the same time. He seldom talked about any of his feelings, and the fact that he would do so now told her several things about her husband: that he loved her enough to _want_ to explain; that he understood her point of view more than she'd ever thought. She'd always known that he felt his obligation to the Air Force bone-deep, but apparently there was _something_ he held in even higher regard. She wasn't sure what that something was—honor perhaps, or love?

"I believe you, Jack," she said at last. "I have a lot of reason to trust you, because I know you. If you say it would have been unacceptable—then I know that's true."

He shifted slightly, moving so that he was facing her more directly. "I'm sorry that you have to live with the consequences of what I did."

She shook her head. "But I don't think I can live with it," she said. "I can't."

The knot froze inside of him, and he stared at her. "What are you talking about, Sara?"

"I can't just give up my home here and move to Virginia. But I've been thinking about this, Jack, and I think I know another way."

"Another way? What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Suppose we could keep this house and Charlie and I could stay here while you are gone on assignment. Would it really matter that we aren't at your base while you're gone?"

He frowned. "I can't always come back here when I'm not on a mission. You know I have duties on base even when I'm not away."

"Then Charlie and I would come to you. We could have an on-base apartment for those times." She saw the doubt in his expression. "At least hear me out."

"Go ahead," he agreed after a moment.

"You're gone more than you're home, Jack. For the last five years you've averaged almost eight months away from us every year. This past nine months with Colonel Cromwell's team, you were only home for a total of seven weeks and five days." She hesitated to gather her thoughts. "I can't just be in limbo waiting for you when you're not home. Charlie and I—we have to have a life. I honestly don't know how other military families do it! Moving every couple of years—leaving friends and homes behind! I know there's this mythical 'sisterhood' of Air Force wives, who are always there for one another—even if they don't even know each other. But I've never known how to be part of that group. It's not easy for me to make friends—and when I do, I know that one of us may get transferred at any time... and that makes it so much harder. It's been so great here for the past five years. I belong. I have friends that aren't in the military. There's been time to feel at home, and I really need that, and I think Charlie needs that."

Jack tried to think what to say to his wife. Conversations like this made him incredibly uncomfortable, he could never find the right words to say. "I know it's been hard for you, Sara. I know that's how you feel... about home and stuff like that. For me, home is wherever you and Charlie are—and it's very important to me to know that you're there, and safe. It justifies what teams like mine have to do—to keep you and other families safe. It's... well, it's worth being away from you so much of the time, if it means you're both safe... What?" he interrupted himself as she dropped her head and sighed. "What's wrong?"

"You make me feel selfish—I'm only thinking about Charlie and me. And you're not thinking of yourself at all. You risk your life for us and other people..."

"No!" he denied. "You're not selfish. You're taking care of our son! That's what you're supposed to be doing. That's what a mother does." He picked up her hand and held it tightly. "I know I never say it—but you do a great job of taking care of him. You're a wonderful mother, and that's the only reason I'm able to leave and do _my_ job—because I know he's safe with you." He stopped because tears were running down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you cry."

She wiped her cheeks with her free hand and smiled—and it was much closer to the real smile he'd been hoping for. "Crying isn't always a bad thing, Jack," she said softly.

His brows drew together as if he couldn't quite grasp that thought. "Anyway, my assignments may not be so bad from now on," he said, changing the subject. "I haven't been attached to another team. I'm going to be working at the Pentagon. I'll be in an office—I can actually come home at night."

"Did they promise that you'll be staying there all the time?"

"No," he admitted, reluctantly. "The General said I would be 'lent out' for special assignments. He said 'now and then,' but there's no promises."

"So you could go back to Virginia and be sent on a mission within a week."

"Yes." He nodded.

There was a pause.

Finally Jack drew a breath and spoke again. "I know what you're saying, Sara. But are you willing to move back and forth between here and Virginia every few months?"

"Yes," she said immediately. "I am. I don't want to give this up and I don't want to lose you. And I can't think of any other way that I can have both."

"I don't want to lose _you_ either," he said. He pulled her into his arms, and she came willingly. "If this is what you want, we'll give it a try," he whispered into her hair. He had quite a few questions, but for now it was enough that she was in his arms.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Okay—not my best chapter ever. But I've stalled too long getting it done. It moves the story to where I want it to be (I hope!), so I guess that'll have to do.**

**Thanks for reading! **

**I'm going to be taking a break from writing for 2 or 3 weeks. My daughter and grandson are coming for a visit, and we don't get to see them very often! So I'll be concentrating on them while they're here.**

**I'll be back.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Medical disclaimer again!**

**We had a great visit with my daughter and grandson—it was just too short!**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The ER of Okaloosa County Medical Center was chaos. An Air Force personnel transport plane with engine trouble had crashed into Choctawhatchee Bay while attempting to make an emergency landing at Eglin Air Force Base. The injured passengers—a unit of USAF paratroopers out of Homestead AFB in South Florida, heading for a training base in Texas—were taken to local hospitals. Since OCMC was the nearest one, most of the victims were being directed there. All of the Med Center's available nursing staff were called in.

It was six a.m. when Sara got the call. She had actually taken a leave of absence because Jack was coming home, but disasters like this superseded LOAs. She went into emergency mode as soon as she heard the dispatcher's voice on the line.

"Yes..." She listened for a few moments. "On my way!"

Jack sat up as she sprang out of bed and headed for the closet. "What's happened?" he asked, recognizing the urgency in her action.

"Plane coming in at the base crashed into the Bay." She disappeared into the bathroom.

Jack got out of bed and pulled on his jeans. "I'll grab Charlie and we'll drive you in." They had done this before, and habit kicked in as he thrust his feet into his shoes.

When Sara came out of the bedroom four minutes later, Jack was already at the door, a drowsy Charlie slung over his shoulder, and the keys to Sara's car in his hand. They didn't say anything as she buckled the boy into his booster seat in the back, and then jumped into the passenger side as Jack started the car.

It was a twenty minute drive to the Med Center, and the closer they got, the heavier the traffic grew. Sirens wailed and emergency vehicles were lined up at the ER entrance.

"Let me out here," Sara said, as they drew into the parking lot. "I can run faster than you'll get there."

"Call me if there's anything I can do," he said. They had turned on the police band in the car, and knew it was a military plane that went down. "I'll call the base and report in, in case they need me there."

"Ricky's mom will watch Charlie if you have to go. Brenda. The number's on the fridge."

"I know," he said. "See you later."

"Bye, Mom," Charlie said from the back seat.

"By, Charlie. Be good." And she was gone, dodging vehicles as she sprinted toward the ER entrance.

Inside she went immediately to the dispatch desk. "Where do you need me?"

"Oh, Sara! Thank goodness!" the dispatcher, Elaine, looked relieved to see her. "Trauma 4..."

Sara was gone before she finished speaking. She pulled open the curtain to number 4. Two people, a lanky youngish man who she recognized as another ER nurse and a small auburn haired woman she didn't know, were working over a patient on a gurney. Sara paused to disinfect her hands and pull on plastic gloves, and moved quickly to the gurney. "Doctor?"

The woman raised her head and brown eyes flicked briefly over Sara's face before she turned back to the injured man. "He's coded twice..." the doctor said. She started snapping out orders and Sara moved seamlessly, anticipating the doctor's needs.

Sara took in the monitor readings at a glance. BP too low, heart rate way too fast. Shock. Borderline TC. She looked at the patient. Young. Airman. Chest trauma, from being crushed, Sara guessed. A respirator tube down his throat.

For long minutes the three of them fought to stabilize the young man.

"He needs to get into surgery right away!" the doctor said, as it became obvious that they were losing the battle.

"Let's go, then." Sara grabbed the gurney and motioned for the other nurse to guide the IV stand. They headed for the corridor, the little doctor right beside them.

Sara hurried them to the desk. "Get me an OR, Elaine," she ordered. "Now!"

The woman's eyes flew to her desk monitor. "OR 6. Dr. Paley."

"Thanks." Sara turned to the doctor. "We'll get him up there."

The doctor nodded as Sara began to move the gurney rapidly toward the emergency elevator. The other nurse, Matt, was right with her.

Captain Dr. Janet Fraiser drew a breath as she watched them go. She wouldn't ordinarily let a patient out of her care until he was in the OR, but after fifteen minutes of working with the tall, blonde nurse, she trusted her completely. And there were dozens of other injured who needed attention. She turned back to the dispatch desk.

"Two more ambulances just arriving, doctor," Elaine said. She pointed. "That way. Bays 4 and 5."

Fraiser nodded and set off quickly.

Janet had been on duty at the base infirmary when the crash sirens had gone off four hours ago. She'd immediately jumped into a responding vehicle, and had joined the triage team set up to receive the injured as they were pulled out of the plane where it had crashed into the bay. She had no idea how much later it was when she accompanied the young airman as he was transferred to the hospital.

She wove her way quickly through the snarl of gurneys and people in the Emergency Department until she saw the flashing numbers that indicated incoming above the ambulance bays, and headed toward the nearest one.

Janet worked along with hospital medical staff for hours as they dealt with the victims of the crash. At some point she looked up and realized that the blonde nurse was back at her side. She raised a hand and pointed to the woman. "You. I want you to stay with me."

Sara blinked in surprise, but responded with a quick, "Yes, doctor."

"Name?" Janet demanded.

Sara realized she didn't have her name tag. "O'Neill."

"I'm Fraiser."

They hardly spoke after that; it almost seemed as if they could read each other's mind. Fraiser would start to ask for something, and Sara would already be holding it out to her. The day passed in a blur of blood and broken bones. Amazingly there were only four deaths resulting from the crash, but there were many, many serious injuries.

Finally, sometime in the late afternoon, things began to slow down, and Sara and Janet found themselves sitting side by side on one of the waiting benches, drinking cups of coffee.

"My God—what a day!" Janet exclaimed, scrubbing a hand over her face. She glanced over at her companion. "My name's Janet, by the way. You work here, I take it?"

"Yes, I do. I'm Sara. You're Air Force?" Sara had noticed the uniform shirt under the white coat that Fraiser wore over it.

"Right. Captain. I'm on the medical staff at Eglin. I was on night duty in the base infirmary when the plane went down. Thank you for all your help. It's great to work with someone who really knows what they're doing."

"Thanks. I'm just doing my job."

"Well, you're one of the best trauma nurses I've ever worked with. I couldn't convince you to join the Air Force and come work for me, could I?"

Sara laughed. "You have no idea how funny that would be. My husband is  
Air Force. I'm the non-military member of the family."

"That's too bad. Is he stationed at Eglin?"

"No. He was until recently. He's just been transferred to Parrish in Virginia."

"The Pentagon?"

"Yes. He'll be working there."

"That'll be a big change."

Sara smiled wryly. "Don't I know it."

Janet looked at her more closely. "You don't want to go," she said.

Sara was silent for a minute. "No," she said at last. "My son and I have lived here for five years. It's home. I don't want to go."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes it's hard."

"Yes, it is."

Janet gave her a sympathetic smile. "Well, if you're looking for a job up there, go to the base hospital. The Air Force has recently begun to hire civilians with specialized medical skills—like ER nurses."

"I had heard they're doing that."

"Yes. They need people like you, and they'll even move you from one base to another if your husband gets transferred. I'm sure you can get a good recommendation from here, and you can use my name, too."

"Thank you. I appreciate that. And thanks for the idea, too. I will definitely look into it."

"With the skills you have, you shouldn't have any trouble."

"Thank you." She started to say more but was interrupted by running footsteps and a child's voice.

"Mommy!."

Sara looked up to see Charlie running toward her, with Jack hard on his heels.

"Whoa, sport!" Jack caught Charlie and picked him up before he could throw himself at Sara. Jack had seen his wife's soiled and stained clothing and knew she wouldn't want him to touch her. "Sorry about that," he said, coming to a stop in front of the two women.

"Jack," Sara said. "Hi, Charlie."

"Mommy! Mommy! Ricky and I went to the movies! We saw 'Mrs. Doubtfire!' She was a man dressed like a woman. He was a babysitter! It was funny, Mommy! The man was really, really funny!"

"Okay, Charlie. Calm down," Jack said. "How're you doing?" he asked Sara.

"Tired. It's been long day." She gestured at Fraiser. "We're just taking a break."

Jack glanced at Sara's companion for the first time, and grinned in surprise. "Hey, Dr. Fraiser. I guess I shouldn't be surprised to see you here."

"Oh. You know each other," Sara said.

"The doc's patched me up a couple of times. How are you, Doc?"

"Like your wife, tired, but otherwise fine, sir." Janet looked at Sara. "You said your name was O'Neill, but I didn't make the connection."

"Not an uncommon name," Jack said. "And you can drop the sir. I'm a captain again."

"Yes I heard about that," Janet said. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "How did you hear?"

"Colonel Cromwell's back on base. He's not known for keeping his silence."

Jack barked a laugh. "Of course."

"Your wife tells me you've been transferred to Virginia."

"That's right. We're...uh..." He glanced at Sara. "We're getting ready to leave..."

"We have to pack," Sara put in. "It was kind of a surprise."

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "You could say that."

"Well, good luck with the new assignment," Janet said.

"Thanks," he said

"I can't go home yet, Jack," Sara said. "I think the worst is over, but they still need people here."

"That's okay. I'll take Charlie down to Micky D's for supper. Do you want us to bring you something to eat?"

"You know, I could do with a Big Mac," Sara said. "What about you, Janet?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it."

"Okay," Jack said. "Just give me your orders!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**I was truly saddened to hear of the death of Robin Williams on Monday. He was a fine actor and a great talent. I loved his work, including Mrs. Doubtfire, which was one of the funniest movies I've ever seen. A small salute to him from Charlie in this chapter. God bless you, Mr. Williams. You made our hearts lighter.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Lake Lorraine, FL, March, 1993**

Sara and Jack worked out a plan. Margie, a friend of Sara's who was a realtor, agreed to manage the house for them. It was only a short drive from the beach, and Margie said she could easily rent it out on a weekly or monthly basis to vacationers. Houses near the beach were very much in demand. They talked it over. There were drawbacks, but there would be the extra income to pay the mortgage and upkeep. Margie would make sure no damage was done. "My agency requires an upfront security deposit for just that kind of thing," she explained. And if or when Sara wanted to return, she would only need to give Margie a few weeks' notice.

They rented a storage unit and started packing away the things they didn't want to leave in the house, but also did not want to take with them. The base housing Jack had arranged for was a furnished apartment—and they could reconsider their living arrangements if things went well. Hopefully Jack would be at the Pentagon for a good long while.

Sara and Charlie would stay in Florida until school was out in May, while Jack returned to work for those few weeks. He would return to help take care of packing and moving when the time came.

In the meantime, Sara was looking into the idea that Janet Fraiser had given her, and already had made application for a civilian job with the Air Force. The prospects looked good.

It all sounded very doable. Jack just hoped the AF did not mess them up by sending him off on another mission. If that happened too soon he was afraid Sara would change her mind about the whole idea. Hammond promised to run interference if needed, but he reminded Jack that there was only so much he could do.

He stayed at home for a week. Jack and Sara talked a lot. They let Charlie stay out of school a couple of days and did a lot of fun things. By the end of the week he felt as if he and Sara were in a much better place.

**Lake Lorraine, May 1993**

Things went well. He returned to Lake Lorraine for a couple of weekends during the next few weeks, and in May he took three weeks leave. They finished moving stuff into the storage unit, and rented a U-Haul for the things they were taking. A couple of days after school ended they headed for Virginia.

They stopped in Charleston and stayed for three days with the Kawalskys. It was the first real visit they'd had with their friends since Meg and Charley had left Eglin.

On the night before they were to resume their trip to Virginia, Kawalsky drew Jack aside and out onto the back lawn. He didn't pull any punches.

"There are people who want to get you back into the field, Jack," Charley said.

Jack rubbed his forehead. "Ahh, crap, Charley. Sara and I are kind of still on shaky ground right now. If I get re-assed right away, I'm afraid she's gonna leave me. This agreement she and I made... well, we told you guys. I don't know how it's gonna work..."

"She's the one came up with it, tho, right?"

"Yeah, but if I get deployed before she has a chance to even get used to the new place—y'know... Shit. I'm scared it'll just be too much for her—she might just take Charlie and go back to Florida, and that'll be the end of it... the end of us." He took a long swig of the beer in his hand. "What've you heard?"

"There's an op coming up—out of the country, of course. There's talk of putting you on it. I pointed out that you've never worked with the team."

"Which team?"

"Hanson's. Jonas Hanson. You know him?"

"Know of him." Jack didn't like what he knew. Major Jonas Hanson had a rep for recklessness and being a show-off. He'd also been questioned regarding excessive brutality on his missions. "Don't really want to work with him."

"He requested you."

"He what?" Jack said in surprise.

Charley nodded. "Hammond denied the request, and Hanson went over his head—to General Carter. That didn't actually work quite as well as Hanson hoped. Assignments to special ops teams are supposed to go through Security. Hammond complained to _his_ boss, General Ramsey." Lt. General Robert L. Ramsey was head of Air Force Security.

"Why would Hanson go to General Carter at all?"

"He's engaged to Carter's daughter. Guess he thought his future father-in-law would pull some strings."

Jack recalled briefly the blonde captain he'd seen in Hammond's office. "And...?"

"Well, this is just gossip, but word is that Carter doesn't like Hanson much. Also the general isn't a man to tolerate being manipulated. But, Jack, even if Hanson's request was denied, your name's been brought back to Carter's attention now. He might think of you if something comes up later. He could override Ramsey through the Chief of Staff's office. I just thought I'd warn you."

Jack sighed. "Maybe I should tell Sara—just so she knows what might happen. I really don't want her to be blindsided by something like this."

"That's up to you, buddy," Kawalsky said. "Nothing may come of it."

Jack gave a wordless grunt.

He waited until after they had gone to bed before telling Sara what Charley had said. He figured by the way she tensed up in his arms that she was not going to take it well. She didn't say anything for a few moments, and when she did, she surprised him.

"Let's just wait and see how it goes," she said. "Margie already has the house booked up for the summer, so I'll call her and tell her to hold off after the first of September. Then if you do get deployed, we can decide what I should do."

Jack's arms tightened around her and he couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "You're okay with that?"

She hesitated. "No... not really," she admitted softly. "But I intend to give it a chance. I'm going to do my part, Jack. I've been talking to Meg this past couple of days, and she really has helped me get some perspective on everything." She paused, and then went on. "She reminded me that keeping a family together is hard work. And also made me remember just how much I love you," she added softly

He felt his throat tighten, and he turned his face into her hair for a moment before he could speak. He kissed her temple. "I'll have to thank her before we leave."

"Yeah. Well, you know Meg. There's not a problem in the world that she can't talk to death," Sara said fondly. "I really miss having her close by."

"There's always the telephone. You can talk to her as much as you need to." _God—he would have to think of something really nice he could do for Megan!_

**Parrish Airfield, May 30, 1993**

Jack and Sara left Charleston early the next morning—a Thursday—and got onto the Interstate heading north. They drove straight through to Parrish Field, stopping only to eat and gas up a few times, and arrived around four in the afternoon.

Parrish Airfield was one of the joint military installations located adjoining Arlington National Cemetery—along with Fort Meyer and Henderson Hall, both US Army posts. Parrish, located on the eastern edge of Arlington, also adjoined the grounds of the Pentagon. The base facilities, including housing units, were located west of the Pentagon, on the southeast boundary of the National Cemetery grounds. The airfield facility itself was shared with Washington National Airport, just three miles to the east, on the banks of the Potomac River.

Their apartment was on the tenth floor of one of the housing units, and from the living area, they could see the Pentagon, and beyond it, across the river, the upper portion of the Washington Monument.

Charlie was excited about the skyline of Washington that he could see, and started planning all the places he wanted to visit. "We gotta go up in the Monument, Dad! And the Air and Space Museurm. The White House—can we go to the White House! The Natural History Museum."

"Where'd you learn about all this stuff?" Jack laughed.

"My teacher," Charlie told him.

Sara explained. "When his teacher found out we were moving to DC, she talked to the class about all the interesting things to see here. And the history of the city, too." She laughed. "He knows things I didn't know."

The apartment was pleasant and roomy. There was a living room, an eat-in kitchen, and three bedrooms. Sara didn't particularly like being on the tenth floor, but she did like the view. The furnishings were standard military issue—which meant basic and utilitarian—but someone had had the foresight to at least paint the rooms in decent colors, and the living room had a whole wall of windows, with a small balcony. The building was new in the past ten years, so the kitchen was pretty much up-to-date. Not far from the building was a park, with a playground and ball field. And there was a Metro station a block away. The school that Charlie would attend was only six blocks away, in the town of Arlington, and the bus stopped directly in front of their building.

Things could have been a lot worse, Sara thought, as she and Jack began unloading things from the U-Haul. She was actually excited about living near DC and being able to visit the places that she'd heard about there. She watched Jack's back as he headed inside with one of the boxes, and thought that she was glad they had worked things out.

A few of their neighbors came out and introduced themselves, and helped them bring up the boxes and other items. There were kids in the building whose parents brought them over to meet Charlie. One of them, a boy named Eric, lived in the apartment next to theirs, and the kids seemed to hit it off right away. All in all, it did not seem like a bad place to live.

**~x~**

Jack returned to work at the Pentagon on Monday. General Hammond had left word that he should come to his office at 1330, and Jack was nervous all morning—afraid that Hammond was going to tell him he's been assigned to Major Hanson's team for the upcoming op.

He arrived at Hammond's office a few minutes early, and Captain Wilkes greeted him with smile. "Hi, Jack! How's it going? Are you getting settled in okay?"

"Just fine, Kev. My wife is happy with the apartment, and my son is excited about seeing Washington. How are you? Anything unusual going on?"

"I'm great. Nothing unusual. The General is on the phone, but he'll see you in about ten minutes."

"Thanks, Kevin." Jack sat down to wait. He saw Lt. Johnson across the room, and did his best to avoid eye contact. Luckily, it was only a few minutes until he was called into the Hammond's office.

"How are you settling in, son?" Hammond asked him.

"Good, sir. Charlie is very excited about being here and Sara is doing okay." He shifted his position in the chair. "Um... Kawalsky told me that there's been something going on?"

"I think it's settled for now," Hammond said. "I had a talk with Jacob. Apparently Hanson's team is perfectly capable of handling this situation."

Jack couldn't help his sigh of relief. "Not that I'm not willing to do what's needed, sir," he said hurriedly. "It's just the timing. My family could use a chance to settle in. Thank you, sir."

"I think you can stop worrying about this problem." Hammond's tone said the meeting was at an end.

Jack rose. "Thank you, sir. Maybe you'd like to come by and see Sara and Charlie some time? I know they'd be glad to see you."

Hammond smiled. "Thanks, son. I look forward to it."

**~x~**

Sara contacted the nearest military hospital the first week they were in Virginia. She was surprised at the enthusiastic response she received. The head of the Trauma Department called her immediately.

"I'm Dr. Vincent Coleman," he introduced himself on the phone. "Head of Emergency Medicine at Parrish-Ft. Meyers Medical Center. I've been looking at your resume, Ms. O'Neill, and I'd be very interested in talking with you. Would it be possible for you to come to my office sometime in the next few days?"

"Absolutely, Dr. Coleman. When did you have in mind?"

"Actually I'm going to turn you over to my secretary in just a minute, to set that up. But first it says here you worked at Ocaloosa County Medical for the past five years?"

"That's right. Part time. I have a young son."

"And are you looking for part-time now?"

"Either part or full time. Charlie is in school now, so it's not as difficult."

"And your husband?" Coleman questioned.

"He's Air Force. Stationed at the Pentagon at the moment."

"How much of your experience has been in Emergency Medicine, Ms. O'Neill?"

"I specialized in Emergency Med at the University of Colorado Nursing School. I've been working in that field for over twelve years."

"Very good. It sounds like you have the kind of experience we're looking for. I'm going to transfer you to my secretary now. Thank you, Ms. O'Neill."

"Thank _you_, Dr. Coleman!" Sara was grinning from ear to ear.

She was still grinning when Jack got home that evening. "You look happy," he said, kissing her, delighted with the way she responded to his embrace.

"I got a call from Parrish-Ft. Meyers Med Center! The head of Emergency Medicine wants me to come in for an interview. I'm going up day after tomorrow."

"That's great!" He pulled her close for another kiss. "Sounds like we may have something to celebrate soon."

"I hope so."

At the interview two days later, Sara was offered a job in the Emergency Department of Parrish-Ft. Meyers Medical Center, working three twelve-hour shifts per week. She accepted happily. When she told Jack that night, they celebrated by taking Charlie out for pizza.

That night Jack made love to his wife, feeling happier and more confident of their future than he had in a long time.

**Parrish Airfield, January, 1994**

Eight months passed before Jack was called up for a mission. He was to be assigned to Colonel Al Reynolds' team—Reynolds, Dixon and Ferretti, men that he had worked with before. The estimated time for completion of the mission was two weeks.

By that time, Sara and Charlie had settled into their new home in Virginia. Charlie was halfway through the third grade and had adjusted well to the new school and new neighborhood. He liked his teacher and his classmates, he'd made new friends. Sara had been working at Parrish-Ft Meyer Med Center long enough to feel comfortable there. She had become friendly with several other people on staff. She'd even received an upgrade to Assistant Shift Supervisor, with an accompanying pay raise.

So when Jack received his orders to join Colonel Reynolds' team, much to his great relief there was no talk of Sara and Charlie returning to Florida.


	11. Chapter 11

**Wow! Over 100 reviews! Thank you, folks! You are superstars!**

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**Somewhere in the Middle East, January 19-21, 1994**

The day Jack flew out of Parrish Field with Al Reynolds and his team the temperature was 28 degrees and there was a dusting of snow on the ground. Nineteen hours later, they disembarked at an air base in the desert, where the mercury topped out at 106.

A jeep picked them up and drove them to a building half a mile away. They were ushered to conference room, where they were offered coffee and food and told to wait. A while later, two officers entered—one was Arabic, the other an American Air Force Colonel. The Colonel introduced himself as Colonel Rickman and the other man as Major Bahar.

Rickman placed a file and a photograph on the table. "This man is known as Haidar—the Lion. He's the leader of a terrorist group that we suspect was responsible for the town square bombing in Israel which killed 48 people six months ago. We've received intel that he's holed up on a compound in the mountains northeast of here. We're sending you in to eliminate him, and any of his associates that you can take out. But Haidar is the first priority."

The team was passing around the photograph. The Colonel continued.

"You'll be driven to a village in the foothills, approximately 80 kilometers from the location of the compound. There you'll meet two guides who will take you the rest of the way. You'll have the truck for part of the way, but the road gets too steep for vehicles after about 50 klicks, and you'll be on foot."

"Timetable?" Reynolds asked.

"Eight days. It will take you at least four to get into position."

"Extraction plan?"

"When you're done you'll send a radio message on the covert channel you'll be assigned—the codes will be given to you at the same time. You'll have thirty hours from your call to reach the pickup point. The map of the area in the file marks that spot. The helicopter will wait for no longer than four hours for you there." The Colonel glanced around the table. "Understood?"

"How far is the pickup point from the compound, sir?" Major Dixon asked.

"Approximately 20 km. But it's rough going. You'll need every minute. Who's your sniper?"

Jack looked up. "I am, sir. O'Neill. Code name Red Kite."

The Colonel's eyebrows raised slightly. "I've heard of you. They say you never miss."

"I try not to, sir."

"Well, it's very important that you not miss this target, O'Neill."

"Yes sir."

Rickman called a Sergeant into the room. "Klein here will take you to your quarters. It's an eight hour drive to the village. You'll leave as soon as it's dark. I suggest you use the time until then to get some sleep. Dismissed."

The quarters were in a large tent beyond the hangars. There were dozens of other tents set up in rows.

"Well, this looks comfortable. Just like home," Ferretti commented as he was unlacing his boots.

Reynolds was reviewing the file he'd been given. "This is pretty thorough. There's a map of the compound area, and some aerial photos. Not as close as I'd like. A list of the members of the group they believe are hiding out there. Photos of most of them."

He spread an area map on his bunk. It showed the mountains and foothills, the location of the village they'd be headed for, the location of the compound, and a rough road between the two. Not a lot of detail.

Jack looked over Reynolds' shoulder. He reached down and smoothed out the western edge of the map, and looked closer. Then he studied the lay of the mountains.

"What is it, Jack?" Al Reynolds asked.

"No borders marked here," he said. He put a finger on the x which marked the compound. "But I think this is over the line into Ihrazhad District. I recognize the shape of that lake to the north. It's located right on the border."

"Won't be the first time they send us into no-man's country," Dave Dixon said, stretching out on one of the cots. "Wake me when it's time to go."

They all slept. It was something you learned to do—sleep and eat anytime you got the chance. The Sergeant woke them as the sun was going down, and showed them to the mess tent, where they ate heartily. Afterwards Reynolds was called to Colonel Rickman's office and given the latest intel as well as the codes and channel assignment.

Darkness comes on fast in the desert, and their transportation was ready when they finished their meal. They traveled in an armored truck, with two drivers switching off during the trip. They slept off and on—the track grew rougher as they got into the foothills, making it difficult to get comfortable.

At the small settlement, they picked up their guides and continued up into the hills. The road was passable, although barely. The truck was not able to move much faster than a man walking, but it would save their energy.

At dawn they stopped for a rest. The guides had their own map of the country they were entering. The compound was clearly marked, and they studied the route they would have to travel to get there. A glance in that direction told them that it would be an arduous trip—the mountains rose, abrupt and rugged, seemingly only a few kilometers distant.

"Another twenty kilometers for the truck," the guide named Rashid told them.

"Which will leave us about thirty klicks to go on foot," Ferretti commented. "Blisters, here we come."

"How far out from the compound do they have lookouts posted?" Jack asked the second guide, whose name was Sadiq.

Sadiq and Rashid conferred for a moment in Arabic. Jack waited, glancing around, giving no indication that he understood the language.

"We think ten kilometer," was the reply in deeply accented English.

"Thanks." Jack took an energy bar out of his pack, and ate it as he wandered over to where Reynolds was studying the map.

He squatted down beside the Colonel and looked at the map also. "They're not sure about perimeter guards," he said quietly.

"Oh?"

"When I asked the younger kid, he asked Rashid what to say. He just tossed out a number."

"Sounds like they don't know as much as they want us to think."

"That's what I thought. Where are the aerial photos?"

Reynolds pulled them out of the file and handed them over. Jack sat down to study them, hoping to find a place where they could set up a sniper blind. The walls of the compound showed clearly. Outside the walls was a cleared area of probably 100 to 150 meters in all directions. Distance wasn't a problem, but finding a clear shot might be. And then there was still the waiting—waiting for the target to walk into his scope. He studied the photos closely, searching for a spot high enough to get a shot over the wall. To the northeast of the compound, there was a rocky ridge, less than a half kilometer from the walls. It looked like the best place to set up. Of course the pictures did not show all of the details.

After the drivers had rested and eaten, they continued up the track. Seven hours later, about mid-afternoon, they reached the end of the road. The team alighted and took out their supplies. The guides moved off to the side with their maps. After wishing the team good luck, the drivers turned the truck around and headed back down toward the desert.

"How much further?" Reynolds asked Rashid.

"Twenty-eight kilometers. It becomes very steep after first five. Climb will take two days."

"Then we'd better get started." Reynolds signaled his men and they picked up their packs and got ready to move.

The attack came two hours later.

They were climbing a thickly wooded hillside, the guides in front, Ferretti and Dixon close behind them, then Reynolds, with Jack bringing up the rear. Jack heard the pop, and was already diving for cover as he saw Ferretti go down. Dixon and Reynolds were barely a beat behind. Both guides vanished into the tree.

_A Trap._ Jack spared only a moment for the though, as he searched for a target.

Bullets rained down on them. In the trees, Jack thought, aiming his automatic weapon upward and strafing the greenery. He was rewarded with one cry of pain, and a body crashed down from the branches ten yards to his right. Both Dixon and Reynolds were firing into the trees now. Two more of their attackers came crashing down. The attack ceased.

"Keep firing!" Reynolds ordered.

They did and one more attacker fell. Jack could not hear any movement among the branches. He risked a glance over the stump he'd used for cover and ducked back when shots struck the trees to his left. He returned fire, and there was the sound of another falling body. He stopped firing and waited. Reynolds and Dixon had stopped firing also. The forest was almost eerily silent.

"Jack." It was less than a whisper. "Coming to you."

He did not hear even the fainted rustle, but suddenly Reynolds was at his elbow, with Dixon behind him.

"We need to get to Ferretti," Reynolds whispered.

Jack nodded.

"I'll go," Dixon said. "Cover me."

Jack and Reynolds laid down covering fire as Dixon moved forward to where Ferretti lay. He grabbed the other man by the vest and pulled him backward until the two were protected. There was no return fire.

They crouched low behind the cover. Jack kept watch as Dixon checked Ferretti for a pulse. "He's alive," he whispered. The wound was in Ferretti's shoulder. Dixon dug into his pack for a pressure bandage, and applied it to the wound.

"This was a trap," Reynolds said. "We need to make sure we got all of them."

"You're right. Our guides sold us out." Jack agreed. "They didn't just happen onto us."

"How many are down?"

"I counted five," Jack said. "We need to check the area."

"If there are more and they're headed back to the compound, then we're blown," Reynolds said.

"We're blown anyway, if the guides were involved," Jack pointed out.

"We need to head for the pickup point," Dixon added.

"That's what they'll expect," Jack said. "How's Lou?"

"Just the shoulder. It bled quite a bit, but it's slowing down now."

Just then, Ferretti groaned and opened his eyes. "Crap... What am I—the designated target..."

"Sorry, Lou. Wrong place. Wrong time." Dixon offered him some water.

"Where are we?" Jack asked.

Reynolds took his GPS tracker and the map of the area from his pocket. "Here." He pointed to a spot on the map. "About twenty-two kilometers from the compound. It's so rough here, we've only made about six klicks since we left the truck." He entered another set of coordinates in the tracker. "It's only twelve klicks to the pickup point from here. Northwest. The compound is northeast."

"Lou's not going to be able to move very fast," Dixon pointed out.

Jack nodded. "I think you should take him directly to the pickup point. I'll go on to the compound. Find a place to set up, and see what damage I can do." He turned to Reynolds. "Colonel?"

Reynolds glanced down at Ferretti. He would definitely not be able to travel fast. "All right. Dave, you take Lou to the pickup. I'll go with Jack to the compound. Twenty-two klicks, Jack—what do you think? Eight hours?"

"All of that."

"It'll take at least that for us," Dixon pointed out.

"I can walk," Ferretti insisted. "And it's not as steep in that direction."

"Okay," Reynolds said. "We'll do it. Dave, you and Lou head for the pickup point. Give me one click on the secure radio channel when you get there. Call for extraction." He took a folded paper from an inner pocket. "Here are the codes. That'll give us 34 hours to join you. If he's in bad shape, make it SOS, and go. If that's what you have to do give me two clicks. Tell the chopper to come back for us." He gave Dixon the spare tracker with the coordinates for the pickup programmed in it.

"Yes, sir," Dixon replied, shoving the tracker into his vest pocket. "Good luck, guys."

"Yeah, you too." Reynolds said. "Ready, Jack?"

"Yes, sir. See you guys later," Jack said to Dixon and Ferretti.

Jack and Reynolds started off toward the northeast. They passed three of the bodies of the men who had ambushed them. They moved fast—must faster than they'd been going with the guides. Two kilometers further on they found the bodies of Rashid and Sadiq—both shot in the back of the head.

"That means there's at least one of the terrorists ahead of us," Reynolds said.

"I'd guess no more than two. They'd have given up only if they knew they were outnumbered."

Reynolds nodded agreement.

They searched the guides, and took the map that Rashid carried.

They checked the tracker, and kept going.

**~x~**

It took Dixon and Ferretti fourteen hours to get to the pickup point, but Ferretti was still doing okay when they did. His wound had bled very little and he was not running a fever. He insisted that they wait the thirty hours for the others.

Dixon gave the one click on the radio to Reynolds. Then he used the codes to call for pickup. After that, he and Ferretti settled down to wait.

**Parrish Airfield, January 31, 1994**

Sara was washing up the supper dishes when the doorbell rang. Charlie was already in bed, asleep. She usually waited until late to clean up—that way she could spend the best part of the evening with her son. They would play board games or just talk or she might help him with his homework.

So she glanced at the clock when she heard the bell. Eight forty-five. She dried her hands and went to answer it.

"Who is it?" she asked through the door.

"Sara, it's me. Kawalsky."

"Charley," she said, pulling open the door with a smile. "What are you..." Then she saw the other officer with him. General Hammond. And her heart sank. She held on to the doorknob. "What's happened to Jack?" she demanded.

Charley put his arms around her. "Let's go inside, Sara," he said quietly. He led her into the living room as George closed the door behind them.

She let Charley guide her to the sofa and he sat down beside her. By then she had herself under control. "What's happened?"

"I'm so sorry, Sara," General Hammond said. "Jack is missing."


	12. Chapter 12

**Please pay attention to the time and date notations at the start of each section. It jumps around a bit.**

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**February 1, 1994, Parrish Field**

Sara was getting Charlie ready for school. After they were both dressed, she would walk him downstairs to catch the school bus, then she would head for the hospital for her shift. It would be just another normal day for her son. Her neighbor would meet Charlie and his friend Eric after school, and Sara would pick Charlie up when she got home from work. They would do all the normal things, just as they'd always done when Jack was away on a mission. Because, until she heard different, she would assume that he would be home as soon as he could.

Her mind went back to the night before, and the news Kawalsky and General Hammond had brought.

"One of his team members was injured," Charley had said. "They split up. Another of the guys headed directly to the pickup point with the wounded man. Jack and the fourth man continued on to complete the mission. They were supposed to meet 48 hours later to be picked up. Jack and Al didn't show up on time. They waited as long as they could."

"There's no word from them?" she'd asked.

"No, I'm afraid not. We have contacts in the area," Charley went on. "We put the word out. But we've got nothing yet."

"How long ago?"

"Ten days since the team separated."

"Sara," General Hammond had said as they were leaving. "If we hear anything, I'll let you know. I won't be able to give you details—but I'll tell you what I can."

"Thank you, sir," she said.

She finished cleaning the kitchen, then got ready for bed. She couldn't hold back the tears when she looked at Jack's empty pillow, but she forced herself to stop quickly. She could not allow herself to break down—there was Charlie to think about.

**January 21-22, 1994, in the mountains, near the terrorists' compound. **

Jack and Al Reynolds worked their way north and east, staying in the forest, and off of the track that they had been following. It slowed them down some, but lessened the chance that they would be spotted. They had been traveling for three hours, and had seen no sign of any of the enemy. Al estimated they'd covered half the distance to the compound.

"Rashid and Sadiq were holding us back," Al commented. "Taking us on a roundabout route."

"We need to watch closely for lookouts from the compound from here on out," Jack suggested. "I expect they patrol the area."

Al nodded. "No doubt. If the patrol that ambushed us has reported in, there'll probably be more out here."

"Yeah. We need to stay as far out from the compound as possible, and work our way around to the northeast side to get the best vantage point. "

Al pulled out the map again, compared their position on the tracker with the location of the compound. They studied the land between them and their goal. "If we circle east, we should be able to make the ridge where you want to set up. If we circle the other way—west—the going looks easier, but it's longer and takes us closer to the compound. It'll probably take about the same amount of time." He squinted up through the trees, looking at the sun, and then at his watch. "We've got maybe four hours of daylight left."

"Okay. East it is."

By dark, they estimated they were two kilometers from the ridge. They camped in the thickest underbrush they found, and ate cold rations, as they didn't dare build a fire. Jack took first watch, and woke Al with a touch at midnight. They were moving again as soon as it was first light.

An hour later they came out on the ridge where Jack had speculated the best position for setting up the sniper nest would be. He'd been correct in his estimation. They found a place that allowed them a clear line of sight over the wall of the compound. From there they were able to see a large portion of the interior. The top of the ridge was bare of vegetation, so they had to stay low. Jack found a place to set up the tripod for his rifle between two large boulders, which would hide their position. He assembled the weapon and set it on its stand, then lay down and adjusted the telescopic sight.

They were settling in to wait when Reynolds received the single click from Dixon, indicating that he and Ferretti had reached the pick up point. "That gives us until sixteen hundred tomorrow to get there," he whispered.

Over the next couple of hours several men appeared in the open area of the compound, but none of them was the one known as the Lion. As long as the sun was behind them, Jack knew they would not be seen. The passing of noontime brought the possibility that the reflection of the sun off the telescope would be seen from the compound. In addition, the glare would be in his eyes, making it harder to see.

It was around midmorning, when Al touched his arm and nodded toward the compound. Several men had emerged into the open, and were talking animatedly. Jack adjusted the scope and scanned the faces.

"He's there," he said softly.

"And?" Reynolds asked.

"I can take him, along with maybe six others, before they get to cover."

"Do it," Al ordered.

Jack sighted in on the Lion and pulled the trigger.

Nine shots later there were seven bodies lying in the dust inside the compound. Two men had made it to cover merely wounded. There were shouts and screams from below. Chaos as the terrorists tried to determine where the shots had come from.

Twelve seconds after that, Jack had the rifle broken down and in his pack and he and Reynolds were headed down the back side of the ridge.

They had already determined their escape route. A dry creek bed below the far side of the ridge angled northwest. They hit the bottom within two minutes of leaving the ridge, and ran. The creek bed was screened by heavy brush, and they took advantage of the cover. They were counting on the confusion as the terrorists tried to determine which way to go, and they ran upstream because they hoped their pursuers would think they had taken the easier downhill path.

A thousand yards up the creek bed, they veered away, up the banking to the north, climbing hard, up the side of the mountain toward the trees. Once into the forest, they worked their way west. They kept moving all day, and never once heard any sounds of pursuit. The terrorists would have to follow them on foot, as the ground was too rough for even the jeep-type vehicles they had seen in the compound.

By the time they stopped at nightfall, they were sixteen kilometers away from the compound, according to the map and GPS tracker. Probably far enough not to have to worry about being caught. But the angle of their flight had taken them a long way north of the pick-up spot. They needed to get over the next ridge, and then head southwest.

They rested for an hour. It was dark by then, and the moon would not be up for two more hours. By then they had made it over the ridge and were working their way down the other side. When the moon rose, the going became easier. The ground was still steep, but moonlight helped enough—even through the trees—so they made progress.

At daybreak they stopped and found cover. "We have a little over nine hours to get to the pickup point," Al said, glancing at his watch. He pulled out the map and plotted their position. "Eleven kilometers. Time enough if we don't run into trouble."

Jack just raised an eyebrow.

They ran into the trouble four kilometers down the trail, in the form of a village nestled in the hollow between two steep cliffs. The only way around it was to climb. They picked the side that looked the easiest and set out. There was a track of sorts leading up the mountain, and they followed it.

"Must've been for mountain goats," Al muttered under his breath, as they made their way along a narrow ledge on the face of the forty-five degree embankment.

A second later, the ledge crumbled under his feet, and he threw himself against the rocks in an effort to find a handhold. Jack reached to grab his arm, but only succeeded in overbalancing himself, and both of them fell, tumbling out of control down the face of the slope.

**Parrish Field, Va. January 22, 1994, 10:38 p.m.**

Sara jerked awake with a start, and looked over at the alarm clock. Damn, she'd only been in bed for an hour. She'd had one of those dreams of falling, the kind that nearly made you jump out of your skin...

Ever since Jack had left three days before, she hadn't slept well. Having him home for eight months had spoiled her! She'd gotten used to having him home at night.

She sighed and rolled over, reaching for his pillow, and wrapping her arms around it. It smelled like him. That was usually comforting... but not tonight. She was still on edge, her heart pounding from the dream. She took several slow deep breaths, calming herself, closing her eyes, willing herself to fall back asleep...

No use! Giving up finally, she swung her legs off the bed and sat up. A cup of chamomile tea might help.

While the water was heating, she went to check on Charlie. Typically, he was sleeping sprawled all over the bed. She smiled as she tucked the covers around him and bent over to kiss his hair.

She took the tea into the darkened living room and opened the drapes across the glass doors. Pulling the recliner over, she sat down. From here she could see the lights of the Pentagon, and beyond that, reflections of the city lights on the water of the Potomac.

Jack should be home in two weeks.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Thanks for reading!**


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